


Red Book

by Kuja



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Animal Death, Body Horror, Brainwashing, Childhood, Dark, Death, Deleted Scenes, Eventual Happy Ending, Flashbacks, Friendship, Gen, Identity Issues, Implied Relationships, Medical Horror, Medical Torture, Mental Health Issues, PTSD, Recovery, Self-Harm, Serious Injuries, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-06-09 15:11:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 40,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15270225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuja/pseuds/Kuja
Summary: ‘Come on, Buck. We’ve been through all this before, you and me.’ Steve said, trying to put the warmth he felt into his voice. ‘That time in Austria, I pulled you out of the lab and straight into more trouble with Schmidt and Zola. I gotta apologise for that, by the way. You should have gone home to your family but you stayed to cover me; thank you.’‘That wasn’t…’ Bucky spluttered a bit. ‘Steve, that’s not what this is about!’‘Isn’t it?’ Steve said, smiling gently. ‘You’ve changed. We’ve both changed, and now there’s a target painted on our backs as well as my shield. We gotta have that awkward talk again.’‘Oh god, the camp near Kaprun!’ Bucky said, covering his face as his cheeks turned pink with embarrassment. ‘Now I know how you must have felt. I’m so sorry I was such an ass about everything!’‘You weren’t, Buck. It was just a weird situation, that’s all. It’s a little weird now too, if I’m being honest.’ Steve admitted. ‘But it’s been seventy years. A lot’s happened -  to both of us.’‘Yeah.’ Bucky said quietly. ‘I… Can - Can we start this over?’





	1. Phase 1 - Bucky Barnes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Dec 2018] Edited for formatting issues and minor errors.

**Red Book**

**[Phase 1]**

 

It is myself I have never met, whose face is pasted on the underside of my mind.

― **_Sarah Kane_** ** _,_** ** _4.48 Psychosis_**

 

**[2014]**

 

['Confirm your orders, soldier.']

['Orders received. Ready to begin.']

['Go.']

*

The targets split up, drawing fire. The supporting units were down, and no backup would come after them. There wouldn’t be any cover when he was out in the open.

It didn’t matter.

The mission was the only thing that mattered.

*

The street was crowded and full of movement. People ran in all directions, making unnecessary noise. Various fires obscured a lot of his distance vision, but most of the noncombatants were running from the area. The woman followed them.

He knew what to do.

_[‘No prisoners. Kill them all by whatever means necessary.’]_

He would fail in his mission if she escaped.

He must hunt her down.

When the target leapt onto his back, he was able to get his hand up to protect his neck in time. She wasn’t very strong and went down without effort, but before he could fire, she threw something at his arm which caused it to malfunction. He dimly registered pain through his strained nerves, proof that the device was damaging him. It was easily removed. He still had full range of motion.

*

He shot and wounded the woman, but a different target attacked before he could complete the kill.

This was the one that should be eliminated as quickly as possible. He was more of a threat. No standard weapons, but he had a shield to protect himself from gunfire, and he was strong. He was also fast enough to block the knives.

*

_[‘These are your orders:’]_

_[‘No prisoners. Kill them all.’]_

*

His mask was removed during the fight. Remaining unseen was not necessary for the mission, so he made no move to retrieve it.

The target paused. This was not standard behaviour. He still had no weapons besides the shield. Was there another target nearby? A trap?

‘Bucky?’

*

**_What?_ **

*

‘Who the hell is Bucky?’

The words slipped out without thinking. He froze, wary of his own tongue now that it couldn’t be trusted.

Speaking with targets was not his mission. **_Bucky_** was not part of his orders.

*

**‘Hey Bucky!’**

The target, in civilian clothes.

**‘Bucky, come on. There are men laying down their lives.’**

He is young. Smaller. Non-threatening.

**'Bucky? Oh my God.’**

The same voice. Darkness. Hope clenched inside his chest.

**‘Bucky! Hang on!’**

Wind. Fear. Flashes of blue and white.

He _knew_ this target.

*

_[‘No prisoners. Kill them all.’]_

He raised his weapon to fire, but something fast struck him from behind. When he regained his footing, the targets had regrouped to mount another attack. He could no longer complete the mission successfully with the weapons he possessed.

He retreated, following the pre-planned route back to headquarters. The targets were skilled, and more resources would be required.

He had to report.

*

Why did he keep hearing that voice? He couldn’t _remember_.

*

**_Why?_ **

*

He had to report.

The mission was all that mattered.

_*_

**‘Bucky?’**

The Soldier kept going, taking measures to evade pursuit, though he could detect none. As he ran he mentally reviewed his mission orders, but he could not find any references to **Bucky**. He could not match it to any information he had been given on the targets. He tried to think of _before_. Before the mission.

**Pain.**

**_So much pain._ **He couldn’t _think_.** **

****

****

**It was -**

No.

It was irrelevant.

*

**‘Please, Buck. Talk to me.’**

That _voice_ again.

‘ _Stop_!’ The Soldier growled as he leapt several stories into a basement from the stairwell. 

He didn’t notice that he had spoken, but as he approached the final corner before the bank he dropped his remaining firearm down a drain. It had been crushed between trembling fingers.

*

_[‘Kill them all.']_

**‘Bucky? Bucky! What’s going on?’**

*

The mission was a failure. He had to report.

*

[‘Welcome back, soldier.’]

['Ready to comply.’]

The correct response came to him automatically, as it always did.

[‘Mission Report.’]

‘…I knew him. He was smaller.’

More words, this time forbidden. He began to shake.

[‘Soldier?]

‘That man…he stopped.’ The Soldier shook his head, confused. ‘[Why did he _stop?]'_

[‘Soldier, report!’]

This wasn’t part of the mission. There were no instructions for this. This wasn’t _allowed._

‘Я не знаю - _I don’t know!’_

±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±

 

**The Red Book**

 

The red book is a record of death. 

It is the step-by-step instructions on how to kill a man - to methodically break down everything he ever was, and what he believed in. 

It is how to **_erase_ ** life. To remove from a body and mind the very reasons for living.

It is the death of hope. Practical, laid out in neat cursive rows.

Such a little thing.

 

±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±

 

Hatch opens

Stark light

the rupture begins

 **―** **Sarah Kane** **,** **4.48 Psychosis**

 

**[1943]**

 

When they came for him, Bucky was already too weak to put up much of a fight. If he had only kept his head down they might not have beaten him so regularly, or at least not taken quite as much time and enjoyment in it. Then again, his captors could have assumed he liked getting punched. Nothing stopped him from fighting back with words and fists.

Every. Single. Time.

When he regained consciousness yet again, he found he was tied down so tightly that he could only move his neck and head. The lights above were far too bright, and his skull and eyeballs were throbbing with what felt like an awful hangover. He’d had worse, he decided, but not for a while.

He could feel his legs and arms beginning to cramp, complaints at the rough treatment. By twisting his neck at an unnatural angle away from the glare, he could see he was in a rough brick room. Through the copper-blood filter of his busted nose came the sting of strong chemicals. Lots of strange objects lined steel shelves around the walls, and a selection of blades and syringes lay nearby on a tray.

It was a bit too - unfriendly - for your average hospital.

When he concentrated, he could still hear the faint rumbling of the weapons factory. So, he hadn’t gone far then. That was good. He was going to see the guys again soon and they would tell him what a jerk he was, and then they would sit down to work some more on their escape plan.

Not that they had had much of one to begin with, but it was only a matter of time.

His movements must have attracted attention, because not long after he got his bearings a small man entered his field of vision.

 _Doctor Zola._ Bucky labelled him from memory. He had seen him around the factory before. Some fancy scientist, apparently. What did he want? Somehow he doubted it was to give him a booster shot.

‘Soldier, you are awake. This is good. Excellent! How are you feeling?’

Bucky raised an eyebrow and didn’t bother to reply.

 _Seriously?_

The so-called important scientist was clearly an idiot.

‘You have been very troublesome in our factory, yes. But now, we have found a use for you. You will be helping me with my work.’

 _No chance._

Bucky would not be helping the bastard with anything. If it wasn’t bad enough just working in the facility, having to run around after this guy would be too much.

‘Sergeant James Barnes. 32557038.’ His voice was thick and slightly slurred, but he spoke as slowly and clearly as he could.

 _Let’s see how far he gets with_ **_that._ **

Zola sighed as if he had expected nothing less, but he didn’t seem angry **.**

‘Sergeant Barnes, I’m afraid I don’t need your name _or_ your number.’

A faint clattering and the sound of footsteps as the scientist moved closer to the gurney.

‘No, I think just this will do nicely.’

Bucky hadn’t time to see the needle before it pierced the crook of his forearm, but a few minutes later his skin ignited and the room vanished in a sea of red screams.

It was only much later that he realised the screams had been his own.

*

‘325…5703…8’

His lips and tongue were cracked, and so dry. It had been a long time since he had been given any water. Every syllable hurt, but it gave him something to focus on beyond the pain.

‘Please don’t tire yourself, Sergeant. There is still so much to be done.’

“Screw…you.’

His voice wasn’t much more than a whisper, now. Stripped bloody. It was satisfying to know it still worked.

‘Come now, there is no need for that. We are all friends here, hmm?’ The doctor paused as if waiting for an answer.‘There is no one else arriving. It is just you, me, and the technology of the future. We will achieve _great_ things together.’

Bucky gave up trying to understand the words, or care. He couldn’t move a muscle, so he retreated in the only way he had left - curled up deep within himself. A safe place. With his best friend.

*

The apartment was dim, the last few rays of the day making the curtains glow a deep orange. The furniture was worn but well-loved, and so achingly familiar. Bucky could smell the faint echoes of jasmine and floor polish. He was lying on a jumbled pile of cushions on the floor, propped up on one elbow. His favourite wool blanket lay across his legs, and watching him from the nearby bed was -

_‘Steve.’_

_‘Hey,Buck.’_

Steve had his sketchbook and pencils on his lap, as usual. His asthma inhaler rested within easy reach on a cabinet. Bucky looked to the right and saw all of his own army gear stacked neatly in a corner. Their coats hung on a hook behind the door.

Thank God. He had made it home safely after all.

_‘You want to sleep?’_

Steve gestured to the fading daylight. He didn’t look tired, but Bucky could feel his own body relaxing and he nodded.

_‘Sure, it’s getting late.’_

Steve smiled, putting the sketchbook gently aside.

_‘Alright then.’_

Bucky closed his eyes.

_‘‘night, Bucky.’_

_‘Goodnight, Steve.’_

He slipped from the soft orange glow into a sweeter darkness.

He didn’t dream.

 

±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±

 

‘A hundred years from now they’ll still be ploughing up skulls. And I seemed to be in that time and looking back. I think I saw our ghosts.’

**\- Pat Barker, Regeneration**

 

**[1943]**

 

The flames were finally dying out, but Jaques stopped by with a pile of branches. He dropped a few onto the fire with a nod to the men around it, before silently moving away to join another group of soldiers by the cliff.

The company had spread themselves out around the edges of a clearing, and several fires glowed faintly, banked with stones. They hadn’t wanted to risk the light at first, until Steve had pointed out that the few enemy survivors would be in no shape to come after them anyway. He didn’t bother to mention that even if they had, they would have to go through _him._

No one argued, and they were soon marginally more comfortable. Steve had also insisted on taking the first watch, and they didn’t fight him on that either. He didn’t know whether to be relieved or concerned. The 107th followed his lead like they would for a real commanding officer, but it all felt surreal, like a waking dream.

It was just the two of them at the main fire pit now. The others were settling down and getting ready to sleep. They still had more than twenty miles to cover before they reached anywhere resembling safety, and Steve was certain there would be enemy squads along the way. They all needed to rest while they could.

Bucky was sitting next to him on a broken log, his hands clasped between his knees, rifle by his side. He had helped with the camp and the fires, smiled and joked in all the right places, then sat motionless on the log with his head down, speaking to no one.

‘You okay?’

It felt selfish to end their silence, but Steve couldn’t bear to be alone with his worries any longer.

‘Hmm?’

Bucky looked up, his face thin and exhausted. He had dark circles around his eyes, and his skin was too pale, even in the warm light of the fire.

‘You haven’t moved for ten minutes.’

It was timid, more an apology than an accusation, and Bucky just nodded in acknowledgement.

‘Oh, yeah. Sorry.’

His voice was rougher than Steve remembered, and the faint smile didn’t quite touch his eyes the way it should.

‘Am I that hard to look at?’

That wasn’t at all what he had intended to say, but Steve couldn’t deny that the thought had occurred to him more than once. Apparently, he just had to ask.

Bucky jerked upright like a startled rabbit.

‘ _Jesus,_ Steve. Is that really what you think?’ Bucky sounded hurt, but also guilty as if he had been caught at something.

‘Well, I don’t know, Buck. You’re acting kinda strange, and now you won’t even look at me.’

Steve hated to hear the frustration in his voice, but he couldn’t help it. He had wanted to see Bucky again so badly, and now his best friend was acting like he would rather be anywhere else.

Bucky coughed, embarrassed. He dragged his fingers through messy hair - an exercise in frustration - then deliberately lifted his head again to look Steve in the eyes. He held the stare for longer than necessary, proving a point.

‘Yeah, well…It’s not you, okay?’ He paused with a sigh, looking around for the words. ‘It’s just…back there.’ He motioned towards the path they had taken. ‘Bad memories, y’know?’

Steve thought back to when he had found Bucky; strapped to a trolley, barely conscious, and surrounded by medical instruments and strange devices. He hadn’t even stopped to think about it - he had been too full of joy and relief to finally see his friend.

_Jesus Christ, what had they done to him?_

‘What happened? What did they do? _Did they hurt you?_ ’

Steve’s words came out tense and angry, but it made Bucky want to smile in spite of himself. It was such a _Steve_ thing to say. If his friend was still trying to fight injustice at every turn, then he hadn’t changed very much at all in the grand scheme of things; and no matter how much he might want to, Bucky couldn’t bring himself to lie to him. Too much lay between them already for things to go unsaid.

‘Yeah… Yeah, they hurt me.’ He admitted, keeping his voice low and directed towards the floor. ‘It was the scientist, Zola. Dunno what he was after.’

‘What did they _do?’_

‘Hey look, I’m okay.’ Bucky spread his arms to illustrate the lack of obvious injuries. ‘They injected something into me, and shone a light - I don’t know what it was, but it _hurt_. They only did it a couple times though, then they left me in that room.’ He shrugged. ‘It didn’t do anything. I guess it was supposed to kill me or make me talk, but it didn’t work. I’m fine.’

‘Bucky, that’s not…they _tortured_ you!’ Steve tried to keep his voice down, conscious of the groups of men around them. His voice dropped to an angry hiss, and he grabbed Bucky by the shoulders, fingers anxiously digging into flesh.

Bucky flinched and jerked away, and Steve immediately let go, horrified.

‘Oh God, Bucky, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean -’

‘It’s okay Steve, really. _I’m_ okay.’ Bucky picked at his sleeve, adjusting seams, and slowly straightened the lines of his shirt. He deliberately avoided rubbing his shoulders, where he was sure he would soon have spectacular bruises. A short pause, and then he added a murmured ‘Thanks.’ 

Despite Bucky’s attempt at a smile, he knew his physical condition and his reaction had betrayed him, and he could tell that Steve wasn’t at all convinced.

Bucky held out a hand towards his friend, whose right arm was beginning to tense painfully around his painted shield. 

‘Now, I’m not gonna lie -‘ Bucky continued quickly.‘- I’ll be really happy if I _never_ have to think about that place again - but it’s over now.’ The smile had crept back into his eyes, warm and genuine. ‘We’re out. _You got us out_ , Steve. And yeah, this - ’ he gestured, drawing a circle around Steve with his arm. ‘- well it’s gonna take some getting used to, but it’s good. It’s great.’

‘You really mean that, Buck?’ Steve was trying very hard not to let the relief show, but he had never been able to hide his feelings from his friend and he knew he sounded desperate.

‘Sure. Just ‘cause you gained a hundred pounds of muscle overnight, it don’t make you any less of a punk kid.’ Bucky winked and Steve couldn’t help but laugh. ‘You’re still you.’

‘Very true, and you’ll _always_ be the bigger jerk.’

Their laughter tailed off into a comfortable silence for a while. This time Bucky was the one to break it, his posture slumping slightly.

‘Y’know, in the lab…I- I talked to you.’ He was looking at the floor again, grasping and worrying at his fingers to disguise their tremor. ‘I think - part of me knew you’d come. Hoped you’d come, maybe.’

‘Bucky?’ Steve shuffled closer to him, his voice soft as he strained to hear Bucky’s own quiet words, now barely above a whisper.

‘I wanted to see you again. I thought - ’ He chuckled, the tone bitter. ‘I thought you would need my help, and I wouldn’t be there for you; I felt so bad about it. And then - you wind up saving _me_ instead. It’s crazy.’

‘I missed you too, Bucky.’

Steve reached out to Bucky then stopped short, hesitant. Bucky just looked at him, his face unreadable. Slowly, wordlessly he offered his hands, palm up, giving permission. Steve gently wrapped his hands around Bucky’s upper arms and pulled him to his feet, now very conscious of his increased height and strength. They could meet each other’s eyes naturally, he realised with wonder. He spoke softly into the space between them, that now suddenly felt so very small. 

‘When I thought you might be dead… I’ll be honest -I’ve _never_ felt so helpless, not in my whole life. I can’t go through that again… I need you, pal.’

‘You never _needed_ me, Steve. Not really.’ Bucky returned the embrace with the same gentleness, then pulled himself back a little, as if to take in his friend’s changes for the first time. ‘I’ll always worry about you, though.’

‘Even though I can lift a car with one arm?’ Steve grinned, squeezing Bucky just a little harder for a second to prove his point.

 _‘_ You’re _kidding?’_ Bucky was incredulous but Steve just nodded seriously, letting it sink in.

‘That’s amazing.’ Bucky said finally, voice tinged with awe.

“Yeah, I guess it _is_ pretty crazy.’ Steve tried not to think about it too much if he was honest. It usually just made him feel awkward. ‘It doesn’t feel real sometimes, y’know? I’m not sure how far this serum - this _stuff_ even goes.’

‘Well, _I_ know that next time we go out, you’re carrying _me_ home for a change!’ Bucky tapped Steve in the centre of his chest with a hand, covering the star. ‘We’re gonna drink the bars dry to celebrate.’

‘I’ve been told that ‘Captain America’ can’t actually get drunk, so I guess I’m stuck looking after you instead.’ Steve said with a smile.

‘Seriously? Well, that’s a bust.’ Bucky laughed. ‘Wow. Then I guess I don’t envy you at all, Captain.’

‘…You wanna arm wrestle?’

‘ _Get lost,_ Rogers.’

 

±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±

 

of course I loved you

you saved my life

I wish you hadn’t

I wish you hadn’t

I wish you’d left me alone

― **Sarah Kane** , **4.48 Psychosis**

 

**[1945]**

 

He was warm. That was unexpected. He hadn’t been truly warm in weeks.

It took a few seconds, but his brain finally caught up with the _wrongness_ of the situation. The air was unpleasant - thick and humid, and he could taste something awful in the back of his throat. Deep pulses of pain bloomed across his body, but he was almost too exhausted to move. His eyelids felt like lead weights.

Instead of the familiar bustle of the camp, he heard only the bleep and whir of nearby machines. Metal and water echoed in the distance.

_What’s going on?_

He could sense fluorescent lights above, tickling at his closed eyelids. Reaching to wipe the inevitable stickiness from his eyes gave him a sudden shock of pain and the feeling of a thick leather strap around his wrist. He jerked and shifted his body, only for his left shoulder to shatter in a fresh agony and pin him back to the bed. Groaning, he carefully twisted himself back into his original position and felt the weight of restraints on his legs too. The shoulder hurt too much for him to even consider moving it for a while.

Was he a prisoner _again?_

_You’re a lucky guy, Barnes._

Injured, too.

_Well, isn’t that great?_

Panic threatened to wash over him as he tested the restraints, but he crushed it before it could take hold. There was no point in losing his mind over this. There were more important things to worry about.

Steve was going to kill him.

_Oh God, Steve!_

Bucky couldn’t do this to Steve. Not again. He’d made a promise. They were counting on him to help finish the operation. He had to escape, he -

Er ist wach. [‘He’s awake.’]

An unfamiliar voice. Harsh. German.

[‘Get him ready. We start in 10 minutes’]

He forced his eyes open and blinked furiously against the white until a looming shadow resolved itself into a large man, standing by the side of the bed.

[‘Not so pretty now, huh?’]

Bucky couldn’t quite make out a leer on the man’s face, but he would have bet his last dollar that it was there.

_So that’s how it’s gonna be? Fine._

‘Sergeant James Barnes. 32557038.’

He needed to buy time, to figure out who these people were and how to escape. Until then he would have to stall as best he could.

He glanced around him. The details of the room were still fuzzy around the edges, but it didn’t take him long to discover that its features were annoyingly familiar. He had been held in a place much like it before, after all.Prison decor wasn’t exactly groundbreaking. The hospital machines were a bonus, but he guessed from experience that they had kept him unconscious for a time and needed to monitor him.

_Captured and drugged. Again. You know, Barnes, you _really_ shouldn’t be making a habit of this._

[‘Lost something, _Sergeant_?’]

Now that his vision was adjusting and he could see more clearly, Bucky really wished he had kept his eyes firmly closed. The guy was just as ugly as his voice had led him to believe.

His bedside companion gestured to Bucky’s painful left shoulder, and it took a good few seconds of staring for him to realise that the offending limb was covered in bandages, and far too short.

No matter which way he looked at it, how many times he blinked it away, it looked _wrong._

_What the hell? How-_

_*_

A moving train. Cold metal.

Gunfire, and a bright blue light.

Steve’s shield, light in his hands.

A blast and shock of air and-

Steve. Desperate. Reaching out-

**_Falling._ **

Screaming with snow falling into his open eyes.

He was blind when he hit the ground.

*

A slap to his cheek brought him back from the moment of impact.

‘Listen!’ Ugly spoke slowly, gleefully, in English this time. ‘You are with HYDRA now. They won’t find you.’ He was looking intently at Bucky, trying to gauge his reaction.

Bucky didn’t allow himself to flinch, though inside he felt a wave of rising nausea.

More memories poured into him, unwelcome.

*

Trying to peel off his own skin with his fingernails, clawing at the blood that burned him from the inside out.

An awful light that felt like it would burst his eyeballs in their sockets.

Alone.

Restrained.

Helpless.

Pain he had hoped to never feel again.

*

_How the hell did I survive?_

He should be scattered in pieces across the side of the mountain, but instead, he was back with HYDRA, just without his arm. There wasn’t much left of it, from what little he could make out under the yards of gauze.

He mentally shoved his speculation to the side - There were more important things to worry about. His limb-related questions would have to wait.

_You’re still pretty lucky. Right-handed, remember?_

‘I hear you are good friends with Captain America. He will be very sorry to hear that you are dead.’

_No! He’ll find me!_

Bucky glared at Ugly without replying and then turned his face away. He just had to survive, that was all. Steve and the others would get him out. He had done it before.

HYDRA _would_ fall, and Bucky was going to be there to see it.

His resolve didn’t waver, not even when Ugly pulled him roughly off the bed and half-carried him into another room, where he was thrown into a chair and tied down again. His left shoulder was shrieking in pain all the way up to his neck and jaw, and he was too weak to make much of a protest, so he had to settle for being as awkward a dead weight as possible.

The new location was as uninspired as the first. Plain beige walls, bare bulbs and three men sitting in a semicircle. They had a tray of tools between them. About what he expected from HYDRA, really.

_Okay Sergeant, here it is. Round two._

He took a deep breath through his teeth, clenching his remaining fist.

_Give them nothing._

*

 

It took them a long time.

 

*

‘Sergeant Ja- … James Barnes. 32557…038.’

The words were bubbled - bloody. His lips overflowing and swollen. Blood and saliva spilled down his chin whenever he tried to spit, so he lowered his head slowly onto his chest instead, and let out a shaky breath.

 _That’s better_.

It wasn’t.

Now it was a struggle for him to inhale, but it felt like too much effort to move again.

‘You will not leave until you tell us everything you know about Captain America.’

His eyes had drifted closed, but he could picture the thin wooden rods Number One was holding anyway. They were shown to him often enough. At least four were currently hammered under the fingernails of his one good hand. The floor around his chair was getting messy again. There was blood on everyone’s shoes.

‘You heal quickly.’

That was Number Three. His breath smelled of violets.

‘You may be assuming that this is a good thing, and in a way it is. For _us_.’ He could hear the grin in Three’s oily voice. ‘Worse though over time for you. We don’t have to worry about an early _accident_.'

_Before they have the chance to kill me themselves._

He wouldn’t react. It made no difference. Let them hurt him if they wanted. They had been at it for days and had nothing to show for it so far.

Bucky didn’t plan on sticking around much longer anyway.

_He’ll find me._

*

[‘He heals too fast, you idiot...hurting him is not effective!’]

[‘What shall we do? He can’t be...is strong.’]

[‘We haven’t...’]

['His _mind_ isn’t...serum.’]

[‘...more ways...get him to...’]

[‘Take him to room seventeen.’]

[‘Yes, sir.’]

Bucky was still struggling to translate the end of the mumbled conversation when he realised that someone was pulling the rods from his bloody fingertips. He was dragged to his feet and led away in the not-so-gentle grip of Ugly, assisted by a short rat-faced man Bucky had generously dubbed Nasty.

His legs didn’t try very hard to walk at first, so Ugly and Nasty manhandled him out of the room, bouncing him roughly between them as he stumbled. He was forced to open his eyes a little and use his arm for balance when he hit the wall, the torn flesh protesting at every contact with the plaster.

His left stump had felt better for a while, but it was useless as far as arms go. Bucky was equal parts confused and grateful that it had healed in such a short time, but he wasn’t going to go around advertising it to HYDRA. He made sure to always act as injured as possible.

They seemed to enjoy it anyway.

 _Sick bastards_.

Let them think he was helpless and crippled. He was capable of fighting just fine with one arm.

He didn’t let himself linger on the reality that he was hopelessly outnumbered and weaponless,and that there was still no word from Steve and the rest of the squad. He hoped they were safe, that was the important thing.

He could keep them safe from this.

*

White noise.

White light.

He tried squeezing his eyes shut at first, but they simply choked him until he opened them again.

The noise never stopped.

He couldn’t remember the last time he ate, but they restrained him to force water down his throat.

Questions.

_So many questions._

He turned away and refused to answer. Clenched his teeth through the punches and screamed inside his head to forget where he was.

Sometimes they injected him with things that made tears pour down his cheeks, or think that there were maggots squirming underneath his skin.

Things crying from inside the walls. Scratching, trying to burrow their way out.

It was hot. They took his clothes away.

He begged for someone to save him from the army of ghosts standing behind his eyes, his body shaking and sweating with terror.

When they finally gave him food he cried with relief, ripping the packets to shreds and eating so fast he made himself sick.

They left him for a long time after that. Alone in the mess and the noise.

Was it days or weeks since he last slept?

_Always the same questions:_

‘Who are you?’

‘Do you know where you are?’

‘Why are you here?’

He didn’t care anymore.

It was so hard to _think._

He told them what they wanted.

‘Thank you, soldier. You’ve been very helpful.’

*

Sometimes he thought saw his Mom. She always worried about him. He reached out to her but grasped empty air.

Then he remembered.

He was waiting for Steve.

Waiting to be saved.

When would Steve come?

Why couldn’t he _remember_?

He traced the familiar cracks in the wall over and over again with thinning fingers.

_Where is everyone?_

*

‘Captain America is dead. There won’t be a rescue.’

_Oh God, no._

_*_

‘He’s dead. This is your home now.’

‘NO! You’re lying.’

_*_

_He’ll come back._

_I know he’ll come to get me out._

_*_

_‘Steve?’_

_‘Where are you?’_

_*_

_‘Are you still alive?’_

_‘…Steve?’_

_*_

_‘Please, Steve.’_

_‘Please don’t leave me here alone.’_

*

He wasn’t sure when they had moved him out of the white room.

The new room was green and damp. Four paces by four paces.

The noise still buzzed in the back of his mind, when he couldn’t focus on the blood rushing in his ears.

They gave him a blanket. The floor was cold.

He had more food now. It had no taste, but he didn’t mind.

Maybe they had forgotten about him?

He counted the spots of dirt on the ceiling.

He scored his name and those he loved with his nails until it took days for the words to fade from his flesh.

No one spoke to him anymore or asked him questions.

If he got angry or made a noise, they tied him down and drugged him.

He didn’t like the straps or the needles, so he stayed silent. Waiting.

_Steve wasn’t coming back._

He thought of home.

 

±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±

 

I never had any friends later on like the ones I had when I was twelve. Jesus, did you?

**\- Stephen King, Different Seasons**

 

**[1929]**

 

‘James, how many times do I have to tell you? Pick up your clothes before you leave!’

‘Sorry, mom.’

Bucky ran back into his room, swerving left around the baseball glove and leaping over a pile of books in the middle of the floor with practised ease. Spotting the offending laundry, he quickly shoved it into the closet, holding the door shut with a chair when a pant leg threatened to escape.

It would have to do for now.

‘Okay mom, see you later!’

‘Stay safe, and make sure you get back -’

‘- in time for dinner, yeah I know.’ he finished with a grin.

‘Go on then, and mind what you’re doing! Don’t make your father come out looking for you again.’

‘I won’t, I promise.’ He gave a little salute and sprinted out the back before she chased him for anything else, the door rattling in its hinges a little too hard.

_Oops._

He didn’t feel guilty for long. It was summer, and he had all the time in the world. He was going to the park, and maybe the store that had those new baseball cards he wanted. He would have to miss out on a couple of movies to afford them, but it would be more than worth it.

Maybe Steve would be in the park today.

He hadn’t seen Steve in a while, and while they did explore outside sometimes, more often than not they hung out at home or sat in the park if Steve was sick. Especially in winter.

Bucky didn’t understand exactly why Steve was always thin and coughing - they said something about ‘asthma’ and a ‘weak constitution’- but Steve was a great guy, he just needed a bit of help sometimes.

*

They had been introduced a few years earlier when eight-year-old Bucky had charged at full speed down an alleyway and tackled David, a stocky boy from four blocks over. He had been viciously kicking someone lying on the ground, their skinny limbs curled up in a ball. Bucky hadn’t a clue what the fight was about, but it didn’t matter. The other kid was hurt - and that was enough.

Bucky was pretty tall and strong for his age, so it was no contest. David was caught completely by surprise and went down like a bag of rocks, landing several feet away with an impressive cut on his head. Once he got up and saw Bucky on his feet and still glaring at him, he left the shredded remains of his dignity and ran without looking back.

It was only when Bucky picked the victim up out of the dirt and propped him against a garbage can, that he realised he’d seen him before.

‘You live around the corner from me, next to Mrs Walsh! I’ve seen you in the park with your mom.’

‘Yeah, I’m Steven Rogers.’ panted the tiny kid, his body still shaking with effort as he struggled to breathe. He had scrapes and bruises everywhere, and his clothes would have been smart once upon a time if they weren’t covered in mud.

‘Hey Steven, I’m James Barnes - but everyone calls me Bucky.’ He put his hands on his hips, checking Steven over with a critical eye. ‘You gonna be alright? You look awful.’

‘I’m fine, thanks. and it’s ‘Steve.’’ The boy said with a wheeze. ‘He was gonna steal something from the grocery store, so I stopped him.’ He bent over his knees to try and catch his breath. ‘I told Mr Jefferson, so he waited for me and chased me in here.’

‘Why did you do that?’ Bucky was very confused. ‘You should’ve known he would come after you. He got you pretty good.’

‘Stealing is wrong _,_ Bucky - I couldn’t let him do it - and I’m _fine_.’ Steve was looking a little better, but his cheeks were pink with anger. He sounded like a much older kid, though Bucky guessed they were roughly the same age.

‘Yeah I know it’s _wrong_ , but you’re gonna get hurt if you keep picking fights, Steve. You’re pretty small.’ Bucky wasn’t sure if Steve was brave or crazy, but either way he must like getting beat up a lot.

‘Doesn’t matter… I _had_ to say something.’ Steve glared at him fiercely, his expression daring Bucky to argue further.

‘Okay, well it’s your funeral.’ Bucky shrugged in surrender and held out a hand, making a decision. ’You wanna split some snacks? I got my allowance.’

‘I dunno…I’m supposed to go straight home.’ Steve sounded uncertain, but he did light up at the mention of snacks. Bucky guessed that Steve didn’t get many opportunities for treats.

‘I’ll get you home after.’ Bucky promised. ‘C’mon.’’

Bucky took Steve’s hand firmly before he had another chance to refuse. Hauling his bewildered companion upright, he slung his arm around Steve’s shoulders and led him back to the store, talking all the while. Steve stumbled alongside him, trying to keep up not only with the fast pace but with the conversation, which was held at about a hundred miles an hour.

When they finally got back to the Rogers apartment, Sarah Rogers looked sick with worry and was horrified at first to see her fragile son covered in mud and bruises. However, she bit her tongue while she listened to Steve’s explanation of events, and when it was obvious he had saved Steve she insisted on inviting Bucky to dinner.

‘Oh no ma’am that’s very kind of you, but I gotta get home. My dad’ll be looking for me. Thanks though. See you around, Steve!’

He paused only just enough time for a brief wave, before sprinting away as fast as he had arrived.He knew he would see Steve again.

*

After a few weeks Bucky worked out how to match Steve’s stride when they went out and remembered where he kept his asthma inhaler and what made him snort milk out of his nose; and while they might get a few scrapes, no one ever hurt Steve badly again when Bucky was around.

Years passed, but Bucky’s most vivid memories of that early time were that they always came home laughing.

*

Bucky was bored. He’d walked for what seemed like miles and got nowhere. The cards were sold out and it was too nice a day for the movies, so he shuffled slowly along, dragging his feet until he got back to the park. It was full of games like usual during summer, but he wasn’t interested. It wasn’t the same on his own.

‘Gotta check on Steve.’ He decided, turning on the spot and marching back towards their neighborhood. ‘He can’t stay in there all day.’

*

‘I’m sorry Bucky, but he has to stay inside.’ Mrs Rogers stood firm, her arms folded. She stood in the doorway to the apartment, keeping him outside on the steps.

‘Not even for a couple hours? We could just go to the park or something.’

‘He’s _sick_ , Bucky… He’s had a fever, and it’s still not settled.’ Steve’s mom looked worried, and Bucky began to realise that things were perhaps a bit more serious this time. He forced himself to calm down, speak slower.

‘Well, can I see him? We don’t have to go anywhere.’ He wasn’t spending his summer without Steve. The thought was unacceptable.

‘I don’t know… he’s really not up to having visitors at the moment.’

‘I’m not a visitor, Mrs Rogers - I’m his _friend_. He’s gonna be so miserable if he’s stuck in there by himself. Please, just for a while?’ Bucky turned on his best charming smile. As he hoped, Sarah melted a little.

‘Alright; but just for an hour. And if he gets tired you come straight back out, you hear me?’

‘I promise - I will, thanks!’

He slipped past her and bolted down the hall before she could change her mind, but skidded to a stop before Steve’s room. He didn’t want to be too noisy in case he was actually sleeping.

‘Bucky?’ A weak voice came through the door.

_Damn. Too late._

‘It’s me. Can I come in?’ He shuffled his feet, suddenly nervous, though he couldn’t put his finger on why.

‘Y-Yeah.’ Wet coughs could be heard from inside the room, along with the creak of bedsprings. ‘…It’s open.’

Bucky pushed the door gently and it swung inwards. Steve was propped up in bed, his thin frame almost swallowed by what looked like at least a dozen pillows. His eyes were shot with red, and his skin waxy and pale. When he saw Bucky he tried to speak but only wheezed, and tried desperately to reach for a glass of water by the bed. His hand shook and he strained to extend it, face screwed up in frustration.

Bucky rushed to his side, pushing him back gently onto the pillows.

“Here, you jerk. Stop trying to move.’ He picked up the glass and put it to Steve’s lips. ‘Your mom will kill me if you hurt yourself. It took some work to even get in to see you, you know.’

Steve swallowed some water, then coughed again. A horrible choking sound. Bucky held him by the shoulders until he stopped.

‘…Thanks, Buck. I’m glad you’re here.’

‘I dunno if I _should_ be here. You look terrible.’ Bucky took in the rest of the small room, noticing the impressive collection of pills and bottles by the side of the bed, the smell of sickness in the air.

‘Gee, thanks. Some friend you are.’ Steve’s voice was faint but his usual sarcasm was unaffected. ‘I’ll admit it’s not been fun, but I’m getting better.’ He smiled. ‘Should be out dancing again before you know it.’

‘Course you will. You got fifty dames lined up ‘round the block. Didn’t your mom tell you?’

‘No,’ Steve gasped, which turned into a breathless laugh. ‘She must’ve forgot.’

‘Well, it’s true.’ Bucky pronounced, face poker-straight. ‘You shouldn’t keep your admirers waiting.’

‘I’ll get right on that, just as soon as I -’ More coughing. ‘- can speak without doing - this.’

‘Yeah, that looks annoying.’ Bucky sat down on the edge of the bed, careful not to dislodge its occupant. ‘You been in here all this time?’

‘Pretty much since I last saw you.’ Steve said with a grimace. ‘It came out of nowhere… They said I was lucky they caught it in time.’

‘No offence Stevie, but I wouldn’t want to be you when you’re _unlucky_!’

‘Stop making me laugh, Bucky! It hurts!’ Steve jabbed Bucky in the side, but there was no malice in it. Bucky just grinned.

‘Laughter is supposed to make you feel better.’ He thought for a moment. ‘But maybe if that hurts, we can do something else.’

He pulled out a folded paper from his back pocket.

‘I just picked this up today. You wanna read it?’

Steve sank back deeper into his pillow mountain.

‘I _want_ to, but I think I might be too tired.’

‘Okay, then I’ll read it to you. I’ll even describe the pictures, and you can check ‘em yourself later.’ He unfolded the paper with a flourish, stacking the pages neatly.

‘Thanks, pal.’

‘Okay, here goes, now don’t say I don’t do you any favours.’ Bucky cleared his throat. ‘Let’s see: Post and Gatty end their world record flight…’

Steve smiled and closed his eyes to listen. An hour seemed to them like no time at all.

 

*

 

Bucky visited every day for three weeks.

 

±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±

 

                 the wrenching begins

**-Sarah Kane, 4.48 Psychosis**

 

**[1945]**

 

He was losing track of time. Of everything.

Sometimes he thought he knew - that it was a few months since the Three Men and the white room. Then hours later, he was convinced it had been years or even decades. His hair was long and tangled now, so it must have been a while. Did they ever cut it? He wasn’t sure.

Talking to people helped - inside his head of course. Occasionally he was confident enough to whisper.

It bothered him that he was starting to forget their faces.

Jim, Dum Dum, Gabe - They were fading. He could picture them - the Commandos - all standing together, but when he tried to focus on a single feature or the sound of a voice he found only fog.

What was his teacher’s name? Her favourite sweater was yellow, and it made her golden hair shine like she always stood in sunlight.

_What was she called?_

He knew Mr Jefferson, the gruff old shopkeeper, but did he have one son or two? Bucky was sure he used to play football with him. Or was it them?

It had been too long.

His mom was still there, thank God. Smiling, hugging him. She watched him leave for England, her handkerchief to her eyes, trying not to cry.

Had she cried? Had he hugged her back?

He hoped so - he really missed her.

Did she think he was dead?

Exercising helped. He did pushups and lunges until his arm trembled and his legs couldn’t support his weight. He told himself it was for when he made his escape.

_Steve is dead._

_\- No. He’ll come back._

_Steve is_ **_dead._ **

_No one knows where you are. They’ve forgotten you, Bucky._

**_You’ll die here._ **

When he wasn’t exercising he slept, the blanket over his face. The room was always dark either way, but he couldn’t bear the thought of being watched.

He didn’t want them to see his nightmares.

 

±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±

 

Please don’t cut me up to find out how I died

I’ll tell you how I died

 **―** **Sarah Kane** **,** **4.48 Psychosis**

 

**[1946]**

 

‘Ah, Sergeant Barnes.’

_‘No.’_

It came out as a whispered prayer, a plea. His teeth began to rattle in his head, his whole body shaking violently as it was drowned in memories of fire and light, needles and pain.

_Please...no._

‘Do you remember me? I missed you.’

He tried to sit upright, but heavy leather straps across his torso jerked his head back down. His limbs were tied again, and he could see the familiar spotlights in the corners of the room, and the knives. The syringes.

_Oh, God._ When had they taken him?

_Burning skin._

_Screaming red._

He had to get out.

‘Sergeant, don’t upset yourself.’ A hand patted Bucky’s upper chest as he writhed on the bed. ‘We will be able to spend more time together. I did so want to see the results of my work first-hand.’

‘Don’t touch me again, you bastard!’ His voice was rough from lack of use, but he screamed regardless.

He felt the horrible cold _push_ of a hypodermic needle in his neck and tried to jerk away, but someone grabbed the sides of his head and held him still.

‘I’m afraid the procedure has already started.’ Zola hovered over him, a benign and empty expression on his mild features.

‘We are making history.’

*

_‘The thoracic nerve will need to be sacrificed…synthetic graft.’_

_‘When…Serum?’_

_‘…Improved healing and adaptation, but reinforcement is required…heavier than we expected.’_

_‘How many ribs?’_

_‘Radial nerve has recovered nicely. Excellent. Shame about the length, but - ’_

_‘Disarticulation. The entire shoulder girdle…’_

_‘Do we have…install the new implants?’_

_‘All of it today. We have waited long enough.’_

_‘Set up the infusions…three hours before the next stage.’_

_*_

He didn’t understand the chorus around him. All he knew was the pain.

The old fire was back, scorching his blood until it felt like he would boil alive. When it finally faded and he was left exhausted with tears drying on his cheeks, he slowly became aware of movements to his left.

There were blades and instruments deep in the ruined stump of his arm, pulling it apart like string. He could see tendons and muscles twitching as they were dragged into the light, tissues pulsing as they were displaced.

He couldn’t scream. His mouth was full of cotton and smoke.

A weight lay on his chest as if a huge beast crouched there, crushing him.

Burning ribs. He couldn’t breathe. Didn’t they _know_ he couldn’t breathe?

Shocks of pain down his left side that made him jerk uncontrollably and hit his head.

His shoulder was heavy. A sharp and stretching pain crawled its way upwards to his neck.

…It didn’t _look right_. All the parts were in the wrong place.

Why did his left side hurt so much? He couldn’t move.

‘Prepare…cortical incision.’

When he saw the scalpel coming towards his face, he sighed and closed his eyes.

_That’s enough. I’m tired…_

He couldn’t feel anything anymore.

*

‘Wake him up.’

_I don’t want to wake up._

‘It is complete.’

_What do you want?_

‘Everything looks good.’

_…What does?_

He opened his eyes. His body felt light. There was a dull pain down his left side.

_Am I still drugged?_

‘Sergeant Barnes, you are to be the new fist of HYDRA.’

He shifted position in the bed and realised that the straps had been removed. He tried to lift his hand, and -

_Hands? Two hands?_

Flashes of light on silver. His left arm. Too bright under the medical lamps. He could feel pain and metal. His fingers twitched.

Why didn’t he _remember?_

This wasn’t his. This wasn’t _him._

_I can’t -_

His body tensed, and he heard the whir and grind of machinery.

 _Let me_ **_go!_ **

 

*

 

They died quickly.

 

*

[‘The Soldier does not have a name. Remember that.’]

[‘Such a pity. He is a strong one. I think he will surprise you.’]

['Do as you are told, Doctor. We must complete the procedure.’]

[‘Very well. As you wish.]

*

‘Sergeant, I’m afraid this is ‘goodbye.’ ’

_What?_

‘We have just completed our latest invention, and you will be the first person to try it. Isn’t it wonderful?’

‘…You’re crazy.’ It was barely a whisper, but the doctor heard him and smiled.

‘I really will miss you, Sergeant Barnes. You were so strong.’ Zola sighed. ‘But, I’m afraid that will not be enough.’

A metal cradle hissed into place around his face, blocking his vision. The background electrical hum grew steadily louder, and the cage around his body started to vibrate. He could feel the pulses of power through his back teeth.

As the hum grew to unbearable levels, he began to struggle. Flashes of blue sparked into his left eye, but the cuffs were too tight - they had no give. After a couple of seconds, he heard a mechanical groan and a snap, but it was too late.

‘Wipe everything.’

The world inside his head exploded.

*

Awake.

He was surrounded by people in lab coats. This made him uneasy, but he didn’t know why. They were all staring at him, making notes on charts and murmuring to themselves.

His head hurt.

Oh, his head hurt a _lot._

His tongue was bleeding.

_What happened? Who are these people?_

A flash of masked faces, ice and fire squirming into his veins -

_\- What? Where am I?_

Alone. Afraid.

 ** _Falling_**.

Who was he? Why couldn’t he remember his name?

_I…I don’t -_

‘Put him on ice. We begin the next phase.’

 

±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±

 

-‘Look at us. We don't remember, we don't feel, we don't think - at least beyond the confines of what's needed to do the job. By any proper civilised standard (but what does that mean now?) we are objects of horror. But our nerves are completely steady. And we are still alive.’

**\- Pat Barker, The Ghost Road**

 

**[1944]**

 

Despite their best efforts, the damp got into _everything._ Bucky was cleaning his weapon for the second time that day, uncomfortably aware of the fact that he and therefore his gear was soaked through.

The wind always found them, and brought with it the sleet and snow. They had tied down the tents as best they could, but it was dramatic when the ropes eventually gave. In the end, they stuffed what supplies they could in a small cave, and triple-wrapped everything else, resigning themselves to a very unpleasant few days.

Hopefully, they wouldn’t need anything in a hurry.

Steve made sure they had their weapons and ammunition to hand at all times, regardless of the weather. His shield didn’t rust, - _somehow_ -which Bucky had to admit was pretty useful. It had saved them more times than he could remember.

And _he_ couldn’t see a thing because of the snow. Great.

His eyes wandered between the different access points to the camp, searching through a haze of flakes for movement. He was just locking the scope back into place on his rifle when a heavy hand on his shoulder made him jump.

‘Sorry, pal.’ Steve backed up a step, hands raised. ‘Thought you heard me coming.’

‘I was watching the trails.’ Bucky shouldered his rifle and checked the points again. ‘No one out there tonight.’

‘Come inside, you’ve been sitting here long enough.’ Steve said, gesturing toward the cluster of snow-covered lumps that passed for tents.

‘I still have an hour before we switch.’

‘There’s nothing going on. Dum Dum can manage on his own for an hour. Come and get a drink.’

Bucky looked across the camp to where Dum Dum sat at his post. He grinned at Bucky and raised a tin mug to him in a cheerful salute.

‘Get yourself a drink, Barnes! It’s the good stuff!’ The words floated across to him over the wind, and a chorus of agreement came from all around the camp as the rest of the squad indulged.

Sighing, Bucky stood up, rubbing the cramp and chill from his thighs.

‘No wonder _he_ doesn’t look cold.’ He said, glancing around once more for signs of danger.

‘It’ll cheer you up, come on.’ Steve was already tugging Bucky along by the sleeve of his coat, weaving in and out of tents until they came to the largest. Inside, they had cleared enough space to sit on the floor and Steve pushed Bucky onto a bedroll, checking he had sat down before turning away to pour a dark drink into two mugs.

‘If I’m gonna be honest, I got you to quit early for selfish reasons.’ Steve still didn’t look at Bucky, he was fiddling with a drinks bottle and clanking various objects on his side of the tent.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I wanted to talk to you.’ Steve sighed, his posture reluctant ‘…I - I got a letter from Peggy today.’ He finally turned around, folded papers in one hand and a mug in the other.

‘Oh.’

Bucky didn’t know what to say. Steve’s relationship with Peggy was…uncertain at best. It had been much harder to stay in contact since they had started this push into the mountains, and Bucky couldn’t remember the last time they had had the resources for personal mail.

Steve passed a mug to Bucky and took the other for himself, his fingers still tracing across the paper in his other hand.

They both took a sip, the liquid burning and good in the cold air.

‘What does she say? Everything alright?’ Bucky tried to keep his voice casual, as a contrast to Steve’s obvious discomfort.

‘Yeah, it’s fine. Jim brought it yesterday with the instructions from HQ. It was tucked between the pages of the supplies list. She knows everyone but me ignores those.’ He smiled at the memory. ‘She says she still wants that dance, and that she…she misses me.’

‘Sounds like you got it, pal. She really cares about you.’

‘Bucky, that's not - I don’t think I can do this!’ Steve snapped, frustrated. ‘Not like this, not…not after everything. I shouldn't be thinking of dancing now, of going on a date, not when there’s always so much _death._ ’

‘But, you gotta think of it now Steve,’ Bucky said softly ‘‘Cause this is when we need those things. More than ever. You gotta have something to go back to.’

‘What do _you_ have to go back to, Bucky?’ Steve wished instantly that he could have stopped the words before they left his lips when he saw the look on Bucky’s face. His eyes had gone strangely blank.

‘My folks, I guess.’ Bucky said after a pause, his voice calm and even. ‘They worry about me, y’know? Apart from them, I’m more here than there… I think.’

‘What do you mean?’

Steve really didn’t want to ask, because he was afraid he already knew. He put down the paper and the mug, holding himself at a distance from Bucky. His hands gripped the back of a folding chair too hard, and he heard it crack.

‘It’s like… another life. It doesn’t feel like _me_ anymore, just a dream.’

Bucky’s gaze slipped past Steve to an unknown point in the distance, and Steve knew that he was thinking of his time in Zola’s facility. It crept up on him more often than he would ever admit, but Steve could tell every time. Just like how Bucky always knew when Steve was thinking of his mom’s death, or any of the other moments in his life he wished he could forget.

‘I get that too, Buck. I think we’ve all seen too much.’

‘Yeah.’ Bucky sighed, shrugging away the last fragments of memory.

‘Doesn’t mean there’s nothing left.’ Steve continued. ‘We’ll all go home together. Once we destroy HYDRA then our work here is done.’

‘I dunno Steve, sometimes it feels like part of me will always be here, like this.’ Bucky had put down his mug. He rested his head on his knees, arms wrapped around his legs. Defensive.

‘Don’t say that!’ Steve felt himself getting agitated. ‘You have people back home who care about you - people _here_ care. We all do. We need you to come home with us.’

‘I don’t have someone like Peggy waiting for me, Steve. The women we left back in Brooklyn…they - they wouldn’t understand. Not like she does. They were so _happy_ and…I don’t know if I can be that again.’

‘Yes, you can. _We_ can.’ Steve snapped, in his best Captain America voice. It worked. Bucky jumped to attention, looking him directly in the eyes for the first time in an age.

‘…How?’

‘We’ll figure it out.’ Steve sat down on the bedroll next to Bucky, pushing his shield behind a table.

‘We’re fighting a global threat with only half a dozen men in two feet of snow, I’m sure we can handle talking to a few women.’ He smiled and got a shard of a smile from Bucky in return.

‘Keep tight hold of her.’ Bucky whispered, voice hoarse. ‘She’ll take care of you. I know she loves you.’

‘Don’t be stupid, Buck. It's a nice thought, but we haven’t even gone on a date!’

‘I’ll keep you safe, so you can get back to her. She’s special.’

‘You don’t have to worry about me.' Steve said. 'You need to think about yourself Buck - think about what you wanna do after we win this war.’

‘I care about _us_ , and getting us out of here alive.’ Bucky looked away. ‘After that… I don’t know how I’m gonna put things together - but I’ll try. If you swear you’ll make it out with me.’

‘Of course, Buck. Together ‘til the end of the line.’

Steve had barely begun to shape the words of their old promise when Bucky joined in with its echo.

‘- end of the line.’

 

±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±

 

‘We're none of us the same!' the boys reply.

‘For George lost both his legs; and Bill's stone blind;

Poor Jim's shot through the lungs and like to die;

And Bert's gone syphilitic: you'll not find

A chap who's served that hasn't found some change.’

And the Bishop said: 'The ways of God are strange!'

**\- Siegfried Sassoon, ‘They’**

 

**[2014]**

 

‘Barnes. You said he was captured?’

Steve hadn’t heard Natasha come into the room, but then no one ever did. She must have waited until the others went their separate ways after meeting with Fury, then slipped back to find him on his own. She stood in a deceptively relaxed slouch, leaning on a desk, but her eyes were fixed only on him.

He knew why she had come. The dressing on her shoulder was still fresh, and her features pale and tense. Her voice was deadly calm.

‘The 107th were held in a HYDRA weapons facility for several weeks.’ Steve replied, keeping his voice level. ‘Bucky was taken to Zola’s lab after he got injured.’

‘He ever tell you what they did there?’

Steve grimaced and looked away.

‘Just once.’ He muttered. ‘He said they gave him injections. That there was a light - and pain. He wouldn’t talk about it, but I know it still affected him. Sometimes he just went…quiet.’

Natasha nodded as if this was of no surprise to her whatsoever. Maybe it wasn’t. Steve still didn’t know much about her past, but from the few hints she had left over time he guessed it hadn’t been a pleasant one at the hands of the KGB.

He sighed, his head in his hands. ‘I shouldn’t have let him come back out with us when he said he’d join the Commandos. I thought about it a lot… after the Alps. Peggy didn’t agree, she gave me a talking to about it afterwards, actually - said it was his choice to go. That doesn’t change the fact that he was _hurt,_ and not really well enough to _be_ there. And if I’d sent him home he would’ve-’

‘-If you’d sent him back he would be dead now, and you would never have seen him again before you were frozen.’ Natasha cut him off, her tone firm.’

‘But, he could’ve had a great life-’

‘-You don’t _know_ that, Steve. You did what he asked you to. He was a soldier - he knew the risks. You should respect that.’

‘Peggy said that, too.’ Steve smiled sadly. ‘Y’know, you both would have made a great team.’

‘Steve, the reason I came to see you…’ Natasha looked away for a few seconds, the only visible sign of her discomfort. ‘…I want you to know what you’re getting yourself into.’

‘I need to talk to him, Nat.’

‘He won’t recognise you, Steve. That’s not _him_.’

‘Don’t be stupid.’ Steve snapped. He was sick of explaining this. ‘It’s definitely him! I _know_ him - We grew up together, for God’s sake.’

‘No Steve, I mean that even if that _was_ the guy you grew up with, he’s not there anymore. There’s nothing left of the person you knew.’

‘What do you mean?’ Steve had a sinking feeling he knew exactly what she meant, but he had to hear it said out loud.

‘I mean that if HYDRA took him - and if they used Soviet brainwashing techniques on him, coupled with HYDRA technology - if they did all that for years, and _decades_ while you were frozen, then the man you knew is dead. His mind is dead - just as if they blew his brains out.’

She sighed, and this time she did give in to her emotions, her body curling up a little in sympathy.

‘I’m sorry, but _no one_ could survive. It’s a living hell. Going through just a few months of the _procedures_ it would take to create someone like the Winter Soldier would destroy a person completely, never mind the _years_ he’s been used by HYDRA since then.’

‘Bucky survived the fall and Zola’s experiments.’ Steve still didn’t want to believe what she was telling him, but the look in her eyes showed that she knew what she was talking about. The fear was real. ‘He’s strong. He made it out of Zola’s lab once, and he still fought.’ He continued, desperate.

‘Your friend has fought more battles than we can imagine.’ Natasha said, her voice soft. ‘Captured _twice_ by HYDRA, held for years - Reprogrammed. _Tortured_. For him to be alive at all is a miracle, but the parts of him that you cared about have been cut out and burned. He’s a shell.’

‘I thought for a second, on the bridge - I saw _something_ in there. In his eyes.’

‘Steve listen.’ Natasha sounded like a worried parent about to lose her patience. ‘He has no memories, only the knowledge of how to kill. He doesn’t understand things like friendship, or mercy. If he disobeys an order for any reason, they will ‘correct’ him with pain. They’ll have set it up so that he can’t even _think_ about saying ‘no.’’

‘I still can’t believe he’s gone, Nat. I don’t think you can just _\- remove -_ what makes up a _person_. Bucky was my best friend. That _means_ something. It meant something to him as well. He’s still in there, somewhere.’

Natasha suddenly looked tired, all her authority and toughness melted away and she rested her head in her cupped hands. She sighed, defeated.

‘He’s going to try his hardest to kill you.’

‘…Yeah.’

They met each other’s eyes and exchanged a nod, understanding each other perfectly. After a few minutes of silence, Natasha took a deep breath, as if unsure whether she wanted to speak again at all.

‘…You know, If those injections Bucky received from Zola were an early version of the serum…’ Natasha hesitated, thinking carefully. ‘…and they did more work on him when they found him again, he might have an enhanced healing ability like yours.’

‘So what? We already know he must be enhanced in some way.’ Steve was puzzled, wondering where she was going with this.

‘ _So_ Steve, if he could heal from a fall like that, there’s a chance he can heal his _brain_ as well. It’s _very_ unlikely, but you could try it. If you can get him to break - or get him away from HYDRA for long enough - his mind might try to repair itself. Of course, that doesn’t take into account the years of conditioning and memory loss, or any one of a thousand other factors, but it’s a possibility.’ She smiled at him. ‘Seeing as how you’re going to run after him regardless, I guess it might be worth a shot.’

‘I- I think it is, yeah.’ Steve grinned, his voice full of new hope. ‘Thanks, Natasha.’

‘You can call on me for your crazy plans anytime, Captain.’ She hopped off the desk and gave him a little wave. ‘You manage to counter even _my_ cynicism. Barnes is lucky to have you as a friend.’

‘I just hope I can be there for him like he always has for me.’

‘If anyone can make this work it’s you, Cap. Just remember, you’re both soldiers. You _know_ what happened to him in the past. If he’s in there - he’ll need you to guide him through it.’

‘I’m not losing him again, Nat.’

‘You might need help to stop him, and the others won't be so kind. They haven’t seen what I have. If he hurts them - ’

‘ - I hope it won’t come to that. I’ll try to get him to come back with us, or incapacitate him.’

‘He’ll be using his full strength.’ Natasha subconsciously rested a hand over her abdominal scar. ‘You’ll have to use every trick in the book to beat him. Make sure you have backup.'

‘This is between me and him, Nat. We’re all gonna have to work together to stop the helicarriers, but after that… I- I need to find him. I need to tell him I’m sorry.’

Natasha sighed and pushed her loose hair behind her ears.

‘You’re a stubborn old fool Rogers, but that’s why I believe you might actually do it.’ She paused, tilting her head to the side, then yelled at a section of blank wall directly behind her. ‘Sam, are you finished trying to listen in? What, are you _five?_ ’ There was a faint scuffling from next door, and she smiled. ‘Go on. I think he wants to give you his own pep talk. Keep him busy for me while I get the gear ready?’

‘Sure.’ Steve left the meeting room and went looking for Sam, who was standing nonchalantly by the dam wall outside, trying very hard not to look like he’d just been running.

*

_This is it, Bucky._

_I hope they’ll understand._

_Even if the Winter Soldier is all that’s left…_

_I can’t walk away again._

_*_

‘He’s gonna be there, you know.’

‘I know.’


	2. Phase 2 - Winter Soldier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Dec 18] Edited for formatting and minor errors.

**Red Book**

**[Phase 2]**

 

It was me on that road

But you couldn't see me

Too many lights out

But nowhere near here

 

It was me on that road

Still you couldn't see me

And then flashlights and explosions

 **-** **Röyksopp** **, What Else Is There?**

 

**[2014]**

 

Awake.

The pain fades.

‘Каков ваш статус, солдат?’ ['What is your status, Soldier?']

‘Я готов отвечать.’ ['Ready to comply.']

['Good. Here are your orders:']

*

['Confirm orders.]

['Orders received… The target, do I know them?']

['Enough! Obey.']

['…I am ready.']

*

The targets weren’t there when he arrived. He searched the grounds around the Triskelion, then took position on a rooftop with a clear view of the hangar.

_[‘Protect HYDRA assets. Your target is Captain America and his allies. Kill them on sight. Kill anyone who interferes with this mission.’]_

After securing the area, he waited. The aircraft launch was expected, but the sudden increase in activity on the ground by the entrance made it difficult to scan for targets. He dropped down closer to the building and heard scattered gunfire from different areas in the complex.

The primary target came into view, heading towards the opening hangar doors. Another man accompanied him: the target known as Sam Wilson. Wilson had access to personal flight-capable technology. A threat to the HYDRA aircraft.

The primary target had a shield, but no other visible weapons. A blue uniform. He was easily identified.

The white star.

It looked _familiar._

*

_Punching the shield, the shock travelling through his arm up into his jaw._

_*_

_He rushed to grab the shield from the floor. It was lighter than he expected, the metal freezing cold and perfectly smooth beneath his fingers._

Why was it so cold?

_*_

_His hand covering a white star._

_Soft fabric - not the shield._

Something else.

**_‘ - guess I don’t envy you at all, Captain.’_ **

_Fire, and warmth._

*

**_What is this?_ **

*

**_‘I knew him.’_ **

His mouth shaped unfamiliar words.

Cold eyes stared, searching his face.

‘- Wipe him.’

Darkness.

*

_[‘Kill them on sight.’]_

It was irrelevant. He had to complete the mission -

*

**_Pain._ **

_Flashes behind his eyes._

_Knives in his head._

**_Why?_ **

**_Why can’t I -_ **

_[‘Soldier?’]_

He must complete the mission.

_[‘Obey! You will carry out your orders.’]_

_[‘Understood.’]_

*

**_Enough!_ **

*

There was no pain currently. Once the target was confirmed dead, the mission would be complete.

Remove the shield, and the target had no weapon. It was an easy kill.

_[‘Protect the assets. Kill the target on sight.’]_

He was too far away to catch them on foot.

He would use the jets. If the carriers were airborne it was the best strategy.

When he approached the Helipad, the pilots were mobilising. He overheard their conversation - They were traitors, attempting to assist the target. They must be eliminated.

_[‘Kill them. Kill anyone who gets in your way.’]_

He destroyed the aircraft on the Helipad and killed the pilots. The target and the flying man were the only remaining combatants above ground. A single jet was still operational. He would find the target and remove the threat to HYDRA, as ordered.

The two men had split up, attacking each aircraft in turn. They would attempt to damage the third as well.

*

_Wait._

_They will come._

*

When they landed on the third helicarrier, he was ready.

Only one of them could fly. The Soldier knocked the blue-uniformed man over the side. The man with wings tried to attack him but his technology was fragile, and without it, he was no longer a threat. However, when the Soldier checked the side of the carrier he found the primary target still alive.

He had to kill him. He could not fail in his mission.

_[‘Kill them on sight.’]_

The Soldier remembered where they had boarded the other aircraft. He knew where this man would go. He would complete his mission.

The mission was the only thing that mattered.

*

The man came to the core room, as expected.

The uniform.

The shield.

_Captain America._

The target _._

*

_[‘Kill them.’]_

*

Blue uniform.

Blue eyes.

The shield.

The star.

 _‘Captain America,'_ but also something else.

**_Someone else?_ **

It was just out of his reach.

*

This was the target. The threat to HYDRA’s property.

He waited for an attack, but there was none.

The target hesitated.

_Kill him. Remove the shield. Obey orders. Protect HYDRA._

The target spoke.

'People are gonna die, Buck. I can't let that happen.’

*

**_Why?_ **

*

‘Please don’t make me do this.’

More words. The Soldier didn’t understand.

_Why did he speak?_

*

_[‘Silence. Obey!’]_

_*_

The Soldier was ordered to kill, not to speak.

A diversion then? It was irrelevant.

He had to kill this man - Captain America. If the target did not move, he would fire.

The Soldier waited.

*

The target attacked.

*

He was strong. The Soldier had to deflect the shield with his left arm to avoid damage. He tried to wound the target using knives, but the shield was effective at blocking him. It was made of a strange metal he could not break.

The target did not take advantage of an opening to strike back. Instead, he ran towards the centre of the chamber and began tampering with a _machine_.

_[‘Protect HYDRA assets.’]_

He must kill the target quickly before he could damage the aircraft. The attacks with the knife were ineffective, and he could not get past the man’s guard.

He lunged.

*

**_Falling._ **

Where had he seen this man - Captain America?

Had they fought before?

*

**_I- I remember -_ **

**_Pain._ **

A spark of agony. Nothing beyond the pain.

**_Can’t think -_ **

Can’t think of _before._

It was gone.

**_Wait -_ **

No.

He must complete the mission.

_[‘Kill them on sight.’]_

*

The target had a small green card. It was part of the _machine_ in the aircraft. The target was taking many risks to retrieve it. He must prevent any sabotage. HYDRA’s property could not be damaged.

*

When the target launched the shield at him again, the Soldier left it where it fell. The man would be defenceless without it.

He could kill him. The Soldier’s left arm was stronger.

He buried a knife deep in the man’s shoulder; a non-lethal blow but it slowed him down. He picked up the _machine card_ that lay between them.

_[‘Protect HYDRA assets.’]_

*

The target grabbed him by the throat.

_Was that wound ineffective?_

The Soldier couldn’t breathe.

*

_Alone._

_Restrained._

_Helpless._

Crushing weight on his chest.

_Suffocating._

**_‘Steve?’_ **

**_‘…Bucky?’_ **

Strange words in his head.

*

‘Drop it.’

*

The target spoke again.

The Soldier continued to struggle. Words were meaningless. He had to complete his mission.

*

**_‘Let me go!’_ **

He had to _escape._ Had to breathe again.

*

‘Drop it!’

*

He fought, but this man - Captain America - just tightened his grip. The Soldier heard a snap and his right arm _gave,_ the elbow shattered.

**_Pain._ **

He screamed.

*

Straps across his limbs, holding him down.

Fire in his left side.

Whispering voices.

**_He’s not coming back._ **

**_He’s dead._ **

**_Steve is dead!_ **

A blue uniform.

A white star.

A smile.

*

They were lying on the ground. The Soldier lost his grip and his left arm was pinned under him. He had no way of landing blows to free himself.

His vision was fading. Grey crept across his eyes in a slow curtain.

*

**_I can’t do it._ **

**_I can’t -_ **

He focused on the plastic edges of the card in his injured hand; tried to hold on.

His fingers spasmed.

_[‘Kill them.’]_

The mission was all that mattered.

*

It was dark now.

**_I’m -_ **

**_I have to -_ **

Silence.

*

Nothing.

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

Awake.

Pain fading.

His right arm was non-functional. It would need treatment and time to recover. His neck hurt; not a limiting injury. Left arm was still intact - he could carry out his orders.

_[‘Kill Captain America and his allies on sight.’]_

A noise above.

The target - Captain America - was climbing.

He fired.

*

The target staggered to the railing above. He was wounded. Bleeding.

_[‘Kill him.’]_

The Soldier raised his weapon for the last time. A shockwave knocked him off balance. Missiles struck the sides of the aircraft all around him. The walls exploded, and the floor lurched sideways as he tried to aim.

A wave of heat hit him in the face.

He heard the groan of metal too late.

 

±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±

 

You don't have to look back to see those children; part of your mind will see them forever, live with them forever, love with them forever. They are not necessarily the best part of you, but they were once the repository of all you could become.

**\- Stephen King, IT**

 

**[1930]**

 

‘What’re you sitting there for?’

Bucky made a great show of dusting off the sidewalk with his jacket before he gracelessly fell in a heap beside his friend.

‘I’m drawing the street corner, Bucky. You can see that.’ Steve didn’t look up from his sketchbook, his eyebrows tensed in concentration.

“Yeah, but _why?_ ’

Bucky peered around Steve’s shoulder at the neat grey copy of the street, stonework and glass just beginning to show in the faint lines.

‘You already drew McKenzie’s store last month.’

‘They got a new poster in the window.’ Steve said, pointing with his pencil. ’And the light’s better this time. I can get the details right.’

‘You can do it later, c’mon. I’ve found us an _opportunity._ You can’t miss it!’

Steve sighed, closing the book and shoving it in a pocket. ‘The last time you said that we had to spend two weeks cleaning Dumont Avenue.’

‘Yeah, but it was worth it!’ Bucky grinned, sensing a victory. ‘I’m serious, this is gonna be great.’

‘What is it?’

‘Trust me.’

*

‘You see? It’s amazing!’

‘Bucky, this is a very bad idea.’

‘Don’t be stupid, this is perfect. We can finally get up there!’

They were standing at the end of the block trying to look casual, but Bucky was fidgeting with excitement and Steve had his arm in a death grip as if he was afraid Bucky would sprint right on up there if he let go.

‘You can’t just climb it!’

‘Sure we can.’

‘I’m not going up there! It’s too dangerous.’

‘You can be the lookout. Come on Steve, we gotta do it. This is our only chance. Think what people will say when they find out we got in!’

‘I dunno Bucky, it’s trespassing.’

‘Not if no one lives there. Now come on! You make sure no one sees anything. We’ll just take a little souvenir.’

Bucky strolled faux-casually across the street, Steve trailing reluctantly after him. They stopped in front of a large abandoned building, the windows and doors boarded shut. A faded sign read ‘Brockway Motors’, but nothing had cruised in or out of those doors for a long time. There were rumours in the neighbourhood that a family dispute had got out of hand, one thing had led to another which in turn led to _murder,_ and there were all sorts of secrets and trophies locked in the back offices for those brave enough to seek them.

Just rumours, of course. The official line was that the owner had had major debts and moved west, but there was no evidence. And anyway, where was the excitement in that?

No one had managed to prove anything so far. The upper windows were too high to reach, and there were no handholds or guttering on this side.A few kids had tried to take the boards off over the years, but there were bars across the first-floor windows and door. No one had ever seen beyond a few feet into the dark rooms.

Now, things were different. A large furniture truck was parked outside. It was the first time Steve and Bucky had seen any activity around the building at all, and they wondered if someone had bought it at last.

The most important detail which Steve noticed immediately was that if someone were to climb onto the roof of the truck and reach overhead, they would only be about a foot below the second floor of the building. The windows on the second floor were broken and it would be easy for someone to slip inside.

If someone had bought it, it would only be a matter of time before they cleared out the rooms and any evidence of a scandal was lost. They had to act now.

Steve was nervous. The truck looked even bigger now they were standing right next to it. It was one of those usually used for removals or large purchases, and the roof was slightly sloped, mirroring the cab. Bucky was walking around the truck with his hands shoved in his pockets, measuring distances and handholds.

‘Just think about it Steve - in five minutes we’ll be the first ones in there!’

‘Bucky, we’ll get in trouble.’

‘Not if we don’t get caught! It’s harmless fun.’

‘If you fall - ‘

'I’ve climbed worse.’

‘Yes, and you nearly broke your neck!’

‘But I didn’t. It was fine, I got it under control.’

‘…I’m not gonna be able to talk you out of this, am I?’ Steve couldn't help the smile that threatened to escape his teeth.

‘Afraid not. I couldn’t live with myself.’ Bucky grinned back, unrepentant.

‘Jerk.’ It was said with a fond sigh as Steve left Bucky to his inspection, and walked around to the front of the truck.

He had always known they were going to do it anyway.

Bucky placed a hand on the wall of the truck’s cab, using the gap between the cab and the trailer to brace his legs and walk his way up. Steve paced on the street, looking for anyone coming. It was a sleepy day in a quiet neighbourhood, and it seemed Bucky had chosen his moment well - they wouldn’t be disturbed.

‘Got it!’

Bucky stood on the roof of the truck, knees bent slightly for balance on the uneven surface. He gave Steve a little wave, then stepped carefully across until he could position himself underneath a window.

“Be careful, Buck. It’s farther than it looks.’

‘It looks far enough _now._ ’ Bucky muttered, staring up at the brick ledge on the second floor. Even after stretching his arms to their maximum, he would have to jump a fair way to grab it.

‘You really gonna do it?’

‘Sure, why not?’ Bucky’s casual tone was just as much to convince himself as Steve. It _was_ a big jump, but he’d done it before.

_Okay, once. And it was a close thing. But never mind about that._

‘Anyone coming?’

‘Nope. Only me to witness you being stupid I’m afraid.’

‘Wonderful. Okay, here goes.’

Bucky braced himself firmly, took a deep breath and leapt.

*

‘Bucky?’

His head hurt, and he was very uncomfortable.

_What happened?_

‘Please Buck, talk to me.’

‘…Ow.’

‘You jerk! I was worried.’

He felt hands under his armpits, tugging him upright. When he tried to move everything hurt, but he pushed himself up into a sitting position and tried to open his eyes.

‘My head…What the hell happened?’

‘You fell, Bucky. The ledge was slippery or something. You didn’t hold on.’

‘I didn’t? Well, I gotta try again.’

‘No Buck, you’re hurt!’

‘…It’s not that bad.’His hesitation and grimace betrayed the lie.

Steve was silent. Bucky opened his eyes, squinting. He was sitting with his back resting on the truck, feet outstretched in the gutter towards the building. Steve was kneeling next to him, face crumpled with concern. Bucky’s pants felt damp and uncomfortable. Dark red.

_Oh._

‘You’re bleeding, Bucky!’

‘Yeah, I guess I am.’ Bucky stared at his left leg for a few seconds, confused. He supposed this was what shock felt like, or maybe it really _wasn’t_ all that bad. He couldn’t feel a thing in his thigh, but the blooming red made his stomach twist and skip in ways he disliked.

‘I gotta get you some help.’

‘I’m fine Steve, I’ll walk it.’

‘You can't do that! Look at the blood. I’ll find someone -’

‘-No! I can do this.’

Bucky tried to stand and got his good leg under him, but he began to shake and ended up in a half-crouch against the truck, holding himself up with his arms and panting like he’d run a marathon.

Steve just sat on his knees watching him, unimpressed. When it became obvious Bucky wasn’t going anywhere, he sighed and shrugged out of his shirt.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Making a tourniquet; now shut up a minute while I think.’ Steve’s voice took on that commanding tone he used when he was really mad or passionate about something, and for some reason, it always managed to get people to listen when everything else failed. Bucky lowered himself carefully back down to the ground without another word and waited.

Steve used a bolt on the side of the truck to make a hole in the fabric, then tore a wide strip out of the shirt. Bucky winced - Sarah Rogers would not appreciate that. He would have to make it up to her. And Steve, of course. His skinny body was shivering a little already even though it was a warm day.

Bucky’s was shaking himself, teeth chattering at an imagined breeze. He checked his thigh again. The stain wasn’t a whole lot bigger, but he could feel warmth beneath him and he assumed the blood was still going somewhere.

‘Steve… this _was_ a bad idea.’

‘No kidding.’

“I’m sorry, I - ’

‘Don’t worry about it.’ Steve brushed off his attempt at an apology with his usual bluntness. ‘Let’s just get you fixed, okay?’

Bucky realised that for Steve this stuff never really _was_ a problem. Helping people was just what he did. It was an essential part of him.

Steve was busily making more strips out of the ruins of his shirt, tying the ends together and flattening it out on his knees.

‘We have to put this on you, Buck. You gotta stand for a bit.’

‘Okay... Let’s do it.’

Steve stood up, draping the makeshift tourniquet over his neck so it wouldn’t fall in the dirt. He got a shoulder underneath Bucky, and together they staggered upright, Steve bent almost double under his friend’s weight. Once they were more or less steady Bucky quickly felt his way around the back of the truck until he could collapse onto the footplate, holding his busted leg out to the side.

‘Sorry, pal.’

‘Just keep still.’ The authoritative tone was back, and Steve pushed Bucky firmly against the truck doors. Without giving him time to think, Steve pressed the heel of his hand down hard on the origin of the red stain on Bucky’s thigh, making him groan in pain. Then with the other hand, he deftly wound the bandage around and around as tightly as he could.

‘You gotta pull it tight and tie it, Buck. You can do it better than me.’

‘Right, yeah. Sorry.’ Bucky forced himself to stop staring at the blood on his pants, and grit his teeth while he pulled the offered material as hard as he could. It sent stabbing pains down his leg, but he guessed that was better than bleeding out all over the floor. He tied it in what he hoped was a secure knot, then leant back, dizzy.

‘Buck? Stay with me.’

Bucky gasped and jolted up again. He really didn’t feel too good. Things kept fading. Who would have thought a leg would cause so much trouble?

‘...I think I gotta lie down now, Steve.’

‘We’re getting out of here first.’ Steve offered his arm. ‘Come on, we’ll go back to the main street and find someone.’

‘We can’t get that far, I -I don’t think my leg’s gonna last that long.’

“Yes, we will. Come on.’ With surprising strength Steve dragged him up by the arm, using his whole weight to lever Bucky into position on his shoulder again.

He couldn’t argue. Steve was just like that sometimes.

*

‘I’m… I’m sorry, Bucky.’

Steve was barely able to string a sentence together, every breath forced through uncooperative lungs. He wheezed and stumbled forward, lowering Bucky roughly to the sidewalk where he fell on his side, panting.

Steve collapsed opposite him, head on his knees. They had made it a few hundred yards, each step an exercise in pain for Bucky and endurance for Steve. Neither had wanted to call it quits until Steve’s legs had given out from under him and he knew he was going to fall.

‘Wasn’t your fault. You should’ve left me and gone back on your own - I’m too heavy.’ Bucky rolled slowly into a seated position, holding his thigh. His face was grey-pale, he was out of breath and his fingers shook, but the walk and discomfort had brought his mind back into focus. He felt more like himself again.

‘You’re bleeding- a lot, and you - you hit your head. I… I’m not leaving you by yourself.’ Even when he could barely breathe or speak, Steve was stubborn.

‘Yeah well, now you’re hurttoo.’ Bucky looked away. He had to put aside his guilt. It wouldn’t help.

‘It’s okay. I’m fine, I just -’

‘You gotta get home, Steve. Get your asthma meds.’

‘What about you?’

‘I’ll be fine.’ Bucky sounded more confident than he felt. He knew he was unlikely to make it much farther anytime soon, and they were too far from the main streets to rely on people passing by to help.

‘No, we do this together or not at all. I think I have an idea.’ Steve sat up suddenly and started rummaging in his pockets.

‘What else _can_ we do?’ Bucky couldn’t see any solution besides splitting up. He couldn’t walk without help, and Steve couldn’t carry his weight any further. If they tried they would probably both end up in the hospital.

Steve was going through his sketchbook, leafing through the pages with increasing excitement.

‘Hang on a minute. I swear, I had it…there!’

‘Steve, what are you doing?’

‘I found it Bucky, our ticket back!’

‘I told you, you can just -’

‘No Buck, we can go back together. The whole way. _Look._ ’

Steve pointed to the open pages in the sketchbook, the delicate shadows of a street and houses.

‘Yeah Steve it looks great, but I don’t -’

‘Bucky,’ Steve cut him off, impatient ‘Look at what’s _outside_!’

‘Oh. _Right!’_ It took Bucky a minute, but he finally saw it.

‘Stevie you’re a genius!’ Bucky grabbed Steve and crushed him in a hug, forgetting that he was covered in blood and dirt. Steve returned it gently until he needed to breathe, then extracted himself with careful dignity.

‘Well first I have to go and get it, but it’s only round the corner. You gonna be okay for a couple of minutes?’

‘Sure. I’m _very_ comfortable.’ Bucky patted the sidewalk next to him to prove his point, settling his legs down. His thigh was throbbing but he thought the bleeding had slowed, and now he just wanted to sleep.

‘I’ll be right back. Don’t do anything _else_ stupid while I’m gone.’

‘I left all my ‘stupid’ back on top of that truck, believe me.’

‘Thank God for that, I don’t have another spare shirt.’ Steve smiled and pushed himself to his feet. His breathing was wheezy and hitched but he was able to walk at a slow and steady pace towards the intersection.

Bucky watched his back until he vanished around the corner, then closed his eyes.

*

They must have been quite a sight. Two boys, both covered head to toe in grime and dried blood. The small skinny one shirtless and exhausted, pushing a squeaky old fruit cart on which was precariously balanced his much larger companion, battered and bandaged legs dangling over the front.

People stopped them along the way and asked them if they needed help, but they waved them along. It was all going to be fine. They had managed, together.

Sarah had just raised her eyebrows at their heavily edited tale and said something about how she wasn’t the least bit surprised, but she would appreciate it if they didn’t try any more crazy stunts in the middle of nowhere in future. She complimented Steve on the neatness of the bandage, which made him stammer a surprised thanks and temporarily forget his anxiety about its past life as a shirt.

Bucky’s family were also unusually calm. He sometimes thought that if it weren’t for his dramatic appearance, maybe they wouldn’t have minded at all. His mom and grandma hugged him and called for someone to stitch his leg, scolding him all the while. His dad just told him not to do it again, which of course, even Bucky could have worked out for himself. His siblings laughed and gave him a hard time about it for weeks which he had expected. It was always a fun story to tell around the dinner table, and he made sure to always give Steve the credit he deserved.

Bucky ended up with two days of bed rest, far too many desserts thanks to his grandma, and a raised scar about three inches across on his left leg that tingled in cold weather.

Brockway Motors was demolished a month later. That was one mystery they didn’t mind leaving unsolved.

 

±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±

 

They will love me for that which destroys me.

        the sword in my dreams

        the dust of my thoughts

        the sickness that breeds in the folds of my mind

― **Sarah Kane** , **4.48 Psychosis**

 

 

**[194-?]**

 

Awake.

Cold.

There were people in lab coats watching him. Men dressed all in black pointed guns at his head. He was strapped down tightly. Strange machines all over the room hummed with activity. Tubes snaked out of inflamed flesh on his right arm. His left arm -

*

_What the hell?_

_…Where am I?_

_*_

His left arm was wrong. Metal. _Alien_.

Was it really _his_ arm?

Why couldn’t he remember what he looked like? He tried to think, but his mind _wouldn’t -_

It stopped.

Nothing.

He didn’t know his own name.

He didn’t know _why,_ or _how._ All that came to him was the cold, and fear.

_*_

Had he always been this way?

*

He tried to move. When he concentrated on the metal limb in its restraints, the fist clenched obediently.

The forest of weapons jerked back to attention, and their owners tensed. He looked around, but all he saw was a crowd of pale faces, eyes wide.

They were afraid of him.

*

**_Why?_ **

*

‘Where - ?’

‘Silence!’

Something hard jammed beneath his ribs and a shock sent his muscles into spasm. He screamed, his body twisting against the restraints. It was only for a few seconds, but it left him gasping and covered in sweat.

‘Do not speak again unless you are told to.’ He could tell that the man wasn’t American or English, but beyond that he wasn’t sure. European, maybe? How come he knew countries and could recognise accents, but not know where or even _who_ he was?

He was barely able to breathe but still had to bite his tongue to stop a sarcastic reply. He didn’t particularly want to be shocked again, and he didn’t have any idea what was going on. Perhaps if he stayed quiet, he could learn something.

He was pleased to note that little clues were coming to him all the time.

Apparently, whoever he was, he was quite impatient and he spoke English. He had a hunch that he was an American because it lit up something in his thoughts that he couldn’t quite put a finger on.

*

**_‘Oh, you’re from Paramus now?’_ **

*

Was that his voice he remembered? He had an American accent, so that was a good start. He didn’t know where ‘Paramus’ was -if it even was in the States - but it was more information than he had had a minute ago.

What had happened to his memories? It was like they were around a corner just out of sight, but he could feel prickling at the back of his mind when his thoughts turned to certain subjects as if connections were trying to form.

He tried to stay still and quiet as he watched the people in the room, reaching out in his mind for those links that would help him understand.

*

A man in a soldier’s uniform pulled up a stool to sit in front of him, a file open on his lap.

‘I will say these things only once. Nod if you understand.’

He nodded.

‘We are HYDRA. An organisation dedicated to improving the world through order.’ He paused for dramatic effect. ‘You belong to us now.’

He didn’t react. It just didn’t make sense. HYDRA? He’d never heard of it. Was he a slave? A prisoner? How did he get here?

‘Your old life is gone, as I am sure you have noticed.’ The man smiled, showing too many teeth. ‘All those who knew you are dead. You are a Soldier of HYDRA. Our greatest asset.’

‘But - ’

‘Silence!’

The guard from before shocked him again, for far longer this time. He couldn’t help but cry out as the restraints cut into his flesh and he heard a buzzing whine from his mechanical arm as it jerked and pulled his body to the side, the fingers in constant spasm.

When the pain finally eased, he looked up through streaming eyes to see that the soldier was still watching him, face expressionless.

‘Do not speak again without permission, or you will be punished. Nod if you understand.’

He nodded.

‘Any life before this is gone. Do you understand?’

He hesitated, then thought of the shock device and slowly nodded. He would play along. For now.

‘Good. You are HYDRA property now. Do you understand?’

Another nod, though his mind was racing.

*

_Who are these people?_

_Who am I?_

_How did I get here?_

_How did they make me forget?_

_…How do I_ **_escape?_ **

_*_

‘We will begin the training.’ The man turned a page in his file and began reading. ‘You will learn, and you will obey. Any disobedience will be punished. Any resistance will be punished. Unauthorised behaviour of any kind will be punished. Do you understand?’

_Training for what?_

He nodded his agreement, and two of the armed guards moved to undo his restraints. The rest kept their weapons pointed at his head.

‘Any sudden movement, and you will die. Stand up.’

He struggled to his feet. His legs were shaky and weak as if he had been sick for a long time, and he only managed a second or two before he staggered. The guards grabbed hold of his arms and held him between them, dragging him along. He was wearing army fatigues, he noted, but he had no shirt and he could now clearly see the ugly join where the metal arm was grafted to his torso.

_So that’s what it looks like._

_Am I a soldier? A prisoner of war?_

He was taken a short distance to a damp cell. Bars on one wall, and a bare room with only a table and a single wooden chair.More armed men stood along the bars, pointing their guns into the room. He was dropped down into the chair by his escorts and came face to face with a different man, this one holding a rifle. The man placed the rifle on the table in front of him.

_What is this?_

‘Демонтировать. Disassemble this weapon.’

He stared at the rifle, his lips instinctively forming a question. One of the guards took a step forward and he stopped the words just in time, holding up his hands in a quick gesture of apology.

He picked up the weapon. It felt familiar. He had used one of these before, he was sure. It felt _right_. He could do this.

His left arm felt strange but his brain somehow remembered the movements, and he slowly took the rifle apart, placing each piece carefully on the table. No one else moved - just watched, guns swaying slightly as they breathed. If this was a test, he wasn’t sure what it was for.

When he was done he went to rest his hands in his lap, but someone hit him in the side of the head and barked ‘Hands visible!’ so he laid them palms down on the table, trying to keep nervous fingers still. He had noted that the fake arm moved in a similar way to his flesh and blood one, but if he paid it too much attention it started to feel uncomfortable. Something inside the join in his chest was… off.

‘Сооружать. Construct this weapon. Faster.’

_Seriously?_

He raised an eyebrow, but the man without a pause pulled a pistol from the holster on his leg and pointed it between his eyes.

‘Подчиняться. You will obey, or you will die.’

He felt the muzzle of another weapon on the back of his neck.

He closed his eyes briefly and nodded, reaching out a hand for the rifle.

*

‘Снова. Again.’

His fingers trembled with exhaustion, even his metal hand failing under the strain. It felt like it had been days that he had been kept in the small room, endlessly repeating movements and following various commands. It had taken a long time, but he had eventually started to tire. It made no difference.

‘Зарядить оружие!’

He took a deep breath and fumbled the unfamiliar rounds into the rifle, using his left arm to hold it steady. A shock to his abdomen left him doubled over the table. He only just had the presence of mind to keep hold of the gun. They didn’t like it if he dropped anything without permission.

‘Медленный. Too slow. Снова!’

He pulled himself upright and tried again, the movements powered solely by adrenaline. He couldn’t keep this up forever. He hadn’t had any food or water. What would they do if he failed? He didn’t want to think about it. Couldn’t think about it.

Load the weapon.

Clear the rounds.

Do it again.

Try to survive.

[Again, Soldier.']

_Just breathe._

_Survive._

*

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but he guessed it had been at least a few days since he had first awoken. He was in a tiny cell with no windows. The solid steel door was more than a foot thick. Apparently, they weren’t taking any chances. He had noticed his metal arm was very strong.

Had he always been this way? He couldn’t remember.

They spoke to him often, but they didn’t mention _before._

*

‘You are an instrument of HYDRA, soldier.’

‘You will complete the tasks we assign you. Nothing more.’

‘Your only value is in your flesh and your obedience.’

*

They gave him food. It was never enough.

He stopped feeling hungry after a while.

*

He thought they drugged him. Sometimes he woke in his cell with tubes trailing from his arm and the hollow in his throat.

He couldn’t remember much of the drills that followed. His mind was full of white light and flickering shadows.

*

‘Наблюдать.’

He copied the man in front of him, his hands following the complex pattern as he wove around the target with a blade.

‘Нападать.’

He hesitated.

*

_Where am I?_

_I shouldn’t be here._

_I thought I was -_

_*_

**_Pain._ **

They liked to shock him where metal joined flesh, to disable his arm and cause the grafted nerves to scream.

He obeyed.

*

Sometimes he thought he saw a hand reaching for him.

Blue on white.

*

A smile.

Warmth.

Soft fabric.

*

**_‘James.’_ **

**_‘Bucky?’_ **

*

He had to escape.

They were training him for combat. They wanted him to kill.

_He had to escape._

*

**_‘Bucky!’_ **

He found some fragments of _before._

A friend.

A voice.

**_‘Steve.’_ **

Steve was counting on him. They had to stop HYDRA.

He had to fight. Had to -

*

[‘He’s not co-operating.’]

[‘Has the procedure failed?’]

[‘No, but his physiology means that it will need to be done frequently.’]

[‘What about the training?’]

[‘That will stick. The implants are designed to respond to the training.’]

[‘Then wipe him.’]

*

['Soldier?']

_['Ready to comply.']_

__

He knew what to say, but his head hurt.

_What happened?_

People in lab coats watched.

Guns in his face.

‘Подчиняться.You will obey.’

**_Pain._ **

He didn’t know what else to do.

*

‘You are HYDRA property, soldier.’

‘You will obey orders.’

‘Any resistance will be punished. Do you understand?’

*

[‘He is strong.’]

[‘He will break. It is only a matter of degree. Increase the regimen.’]

[‘Understood.’]

*

He couldn’t _think._

The room was too bright. The noises too loud. He was shackled to the wall, hands high above his head, feet barely touching the floor. His arms felt like they would be pulled from their sockets. It was hard to breathe.

Men stood in front of him, faces impassive. They pointed guns at him, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to know _why._ They said they wanted him to repeat. To learn.

_So many words._

He breathed the strange syllables over and over, his voice cracking when he made an error and the punishments hit.

He didn’t make mistakes very often. His mind held and he remembered, then his thoughts drifted to other things.

*

A warm room.

A draughty tent.

A school.

A park.

Familiar faces.

*

He wished he could remember their names.

*

Alone in his cell, he curled up on the narrow cot and tried to see them.

_Was any of it real?_

Flashes of photographs taken by someone else.

*

Had he had a life _before?_

Sometimes he thought he was born with two flesh and blood limbs, like all the other people in the facility.

He imagined he had once been able to sense feathers running through his fingers.

It must have been a long time ago if it was true.

Living hands performing the delicate movements to tie his shoelaces.

Was he going mad?

*

‘The training has stalled. The drugs are losing their potency.’

‘We have made good progress, but each time he remembers. We can’t stop now; we are almost at the next stage. Wipe him again.’

‘But, sir - ’

‘Do it. His body will follow orders even if the brain is damaged.’

‘Yes, sir.’

*

‘Солдат?’

 _‘_ Я готов отвечать.’

He had to obey. Any resistance would be punished.

*

They hurt him anyway.

*

Guns.

Knives.

Fists

Words.

He learned it all.

When he found the faces, the places that caused him to stop, to question - they tore it all away again.

*

Sometimes, it came back all at once.

He lay on his cot, gasping with tears rolling down his cheeks.

He _remembered._

For the last few hours, he had been fighting against countless heavily armed opponents. He had neutralised them all, as ordered.

Before that, they had drilled him in knife combat and struck him in the face if his posture wavered.

For days without rest he had trained and fought and hurt, but now he _knew._

He was a prisoner.

*

Soldiers.

Friends.

A campfire.

Warm hands on his arms - his _real_ arms.

*

Mom and dad, waiting in a doorway.

Home. Patterned cushions. A nick in the wood of the kitchen table.

Steve. Skinny and frail.

Now tall and strong, but still just the same.

Captain America.

*

_Steve is dead._

He was alone.

A prisoner of HYDRA.

*

They had changed him.

Made him forget.

They wanted him to kill.

He had to _escape._

*

The next time they opened the cell door, he fought.

He was a lot stronger than he remembered.

It took six stun batons to get him to lose consciousness.

*

‘You are a soldier of HYDRA.

‘You will obey orders, or you will die.’

['Submit!']

**_Pain._ **

_Please, stop._

_Who am I?_

*

His name was James - No, _Bucky._

He wasn’t sure.

There were lots of images in his head.

Voices when he tried to sleep.

He was alone. The cell he was locked in had no way out.

He tried forcing the door but it was too thick, the hinges on the wrong side. When they heard the noise they came back and chained him to the wall, burned him with metal instruments and left him hanging there for what felt like weeks. 

He tried not to make a sound - he had to be silent or they would come back for him.

It took a long time before the wounds healed and they cut him down to lie on the floor.

_I’m… Bucky?_

He was a prisoner of HYDRA. He had to escape.

*

**_‘What happened, Buck?’_ **

He looked up from the cot towards the door. The voices were a lot more frequent now.

He was _remembering._

Fragments of a life. His life.

 _‘_ **_To the end of the line, pal.’_ **

_I have to go back._

HYDRA wanted him to kill.

They had made him forget over and over, and he couldn’t stop them. Couldn’t stop the pain.

 _I have to get_ **_out._ **

*

[‘What happened?’]

[‘The asset tried to remove the prosthetic. Tore off most of the outer casing. We had to subdue and sedate it again. It nearly damaged the internal mechanism.’]

[‘Wipe him again. We are nearly ready for the final stages.’]

[‘Yes, sir.]

*

Awake.

Afraid.

_Where am I?_

_Why can’t I remember?_

_‘_ Солдат?’

‘Я готов отвечать.’

Somehow he knew what to say.

[‘Begin the procedures. Are the implants fully functional?’]

[‘Yes, sir.’]

A man in a doctor’s coat came into view, a book and pen in his hand.

['Pay attention, Soldier.']

['I’m ready.']

_What’s going on?_

_Ready for what?_

['Activate the implants, and keep an eye on the frequency.’]

[‘Yes, sir.’]

Throbbing pulses and a high pitched whine grew behind his eyes.

['Longing. You will obey.']

**_Pain._ **

His head felt like it would burst. His whole body jerked and thrashed around the straps holding him down. He bit through his lips and gouged chunks from his right hand with his nails. The metal digits on his left hand scrabbled helplessly against the chair, unable to grip the smooth surface.

Something was drilling into his skull.

He screamed and screamed, even though part of him knew it was forbidden. He couldn’t control the cascade.

_*_

_‘James, come here.’_

_‘Mom, dad - you know I love you.’_

_‘- Bucky, you’re such a jerk!’_

_‘Don’t tell your mother.’_

_‘This isn’t a back alley, Steve - It’s war.’_

_‘I have to fight!’_

_‘ - I wanted to see you again.’_

_‘Part of me will always be here, like this.’_

_*_

The pain faded, but the faces were always there, watching him. Voices silent.

He had to obey.

[‘Again. We must make sure it sticks.’]

‘Желание.’

He didn’t know anything after that.

*

['Freight car.']

Each time the words.

He hung limply in his restraints, too weak to even lift his head.

_There’s something about these words._

Fire, and chaos.

He couldn’t stop the inevitable agony, or the torrent splitting his mind from the inside out.

He had to obey. If he obeyed, the pain would end.

['I’m ready.']

_Please, stop this!_

_*_

[‘The links are formed. It seems the implants have worked as intended.']

[‘Good. Proceed with the tests.’]

*

Awake.

White light.

Everything hurt.

['Longing.']

**_Obey._ **

['Rusted.']

**_Follow orders._ **

['Seventeen.']

**_Do not question._ **

['Daybreak.']

**_Do not speak._ **

['Furnace.']

**_Do not resist._ **

['Nine.']

**_Complete your mission._ **

['Benign.']

**_Serve HYDRA._ **

['Homecoming.']

**_Protect HYDRA assets._ **

['One.']

**_You are a soldier._ **

['Freight Car.']

**_Your life belongs to HYDRA._ **

*

Awake.

People around him.

*

_Follow orders._

_Serve HYDRA._

_Do not resist._

_*_

‘Солдат?’

 _‘_ Я готов отвечать.’

He responded without thinking.

It didn’t matter.

 

±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±

 

Roads end getting nearer

We cover distance but not together

 

I am the storm and I am the wonder

And the flashlights, nightmares

And sudden explosions

 **\- Röyksopp** **, What Else Is There?**

 

**[2014]**

 

He was here, just as Steve had expected.

Hoped.

Feared.

The Winter Soldier - Bucky - hadn’t given them any warning before he attacked. Had he imagined the flicker of hesitation earlier on the street? He was sure something had changed in Bucky’s face before he ran.

If it had, it wasn’t there now. They stood facing each other just a few metres apart, but Steve felt every one of the 70 years lost between them. Bucky was too pale, and his eyes were dull and blank, posture tense and aggressive.

Ready to kill.

_He’s a HYDRA assassin._

_‘There’s nothing left of the man you knew.’_

_‘He’s a shell.’_

It didn’t matter. He had to try anyway.

'People are gonna die, Buck. I can't let that happen.’

He searched Bucky’s face, praying for any signs of recognition. He had taken his old uniform from the Smithsonian, not only because he could be sure no one had tampered with it but because he hoped it would jog his friend’s memory. It felt comforting and familiar, the 1940’s material brought everything into sharp focus. The bright shade of blue a message of hope in its time.

_‘It’s kind of growing on me.’_

Bucky’s eyes were still empty. He was standing in front of the helicarrier server bank. Steve wasn’t sure how Bucky knew he would come here, but he must have watched Steve and Sam attack the other aircraft and noticed the pattern.

_How much does he understand?_

Bucky remained motionless, almost unblinking. He had a gun in his right hand, and Steve knew that there would be more.

The Winter Soldier was on guard: waiting.

Steve tried one last time.

‘Please don’t make me do this.’

No response. His friend was gone, and he was running out of time.

_I’m not going to kill him. Even if he doesn’t know me, I can’t do it. I’m sorry, Natasha._

He attacked.

*

It was just like last time. He was trying his hardest not to hurt Bucky, but The Winter Soldier apparently had no reason to hold back. He felt the bullet graze his side. Luckily it wasn’t deep.

_Natasha was right._

His shield could deflect the weapons, but that metal arm - the mechanical buzzing always in the back of his mind - it was very strong.

_What happened, Buck? What have they done to you?_

He barely had time to think, concentrating on blocking increasingly vicious blows. Eventually, he got in a few good hits of his own and Bucky stumbled, giving Steve a shot at the server core. He fumbled with the blades but Bucky attacked again and he was forced to defend himself. It seemed that Bucky knew what he was trying to do.

 _Do you care? Do they even explain to you_ **_why?_ **

They locked arms, a knife blade just inches from Steve’s face and he felt building pressure as the noise of the metal arm increased in pitch. He knocked it aside, kicking Bucky away and scrambling back to the core.

_How long did he have left?_

He couldn’t complete the exchange before he sensed something behind him and brought the shield up just in time. A shock spread through the bones of his arm and ribs, and he realised that Bucky was too strong. He would always recover too quickly for him to act. Steve had to knock him out somehow or stop him from fighting another way.

It seemed like Bucky had noticed their stalemate as well, because after exchanging a few more punches he charged and knocked them both over the railing, away from the core. The server blade landed with them a few feet away, and Steve took the first opportunity to grab it.

_I have to get back up there._

Almost as soon as he felt his fingers close around the plastic, Bucky grabbed his arm and knocked it away.

_He’s not just trying to kill me, he’s trying to stop me touching the server. That means he’s not completely mindless! He has a strategy._

Steve knew he had to incapacitate Bucky and get to the server before the carriers were armed, but Bucky was aware of what he was trying to do on some level and would try everything to stop him in return.

_Please, God, I don’t want to hurt him._

He hoped with all his heart he wouldn’t have to, as he kicked Bucky off the ledge and followed his old friend and the server card to the lower level.

*

Steve had almost forgotten about it in his race to the server blade, but his shield struck him in the back and he caught it and twisted into position just as more bullets flew his way.

_Oh great, he found the gun._

Bucky wasn’t phased by the shield, easily knocking it aside. Steve guessed Bucky had studied his use of it more than enough at this point. It bounced off the metal arm, and Bucky stalked toward him without pause, burying a knife deep in Steve’s shoulder until he let go of the card.

Something inside tore, and Steve knew it would need medical attention later. He shoved the pain to the back of his mind, pulling out the knife in one swift movement. He had to go on. He had to stop HYDRA.

Bucky grabbed the card in his flesh hand and Steve lifted him by the throat, throwing him down into a restraint position, but it wasn’t enough. He pressed deep into the vulnerable tissues in Bucky’s neck, but while a normal person would be screaming and writhing on the floor, Bucky just groaned and fought harder. He was heavy too, like Steve himself.

_What have they done to you? Can you even feel pain?_

‘Drop it.’ Steve ordered, steeling himself to hold on.

Bucky didn’t reply but redoubled his efforts to escape, lashing out with his free left arm. Steve grimly applied more force to Bucky’s right elbow and tried one last time.

‘Drop it!’

The arm snapped and Bucky screamed, the only truly human sound Steve had heard him make in the fight. Steve winced and grit his teeth.

 _He does hurt. He_ **_can_ ** _feel pain. He’s broken._

_I hurt him._

They were trapped together, limbs flailing. Bucky still wouldn’t let go, and Steve twisted onto his back so he could get his forearm around Bucky’s neck, pressing down on the nerves and airway as best he could. The metal arm thrashed and buzzed, but he waited until it snapped down and pinned it beneath his thigh where it shuddered helplessly.

_Please, forgive me._

He closed his eyes and held on tighter.

Eventually, the Winter Soldier went still, green plastic falling from limp fingers.

Steve grabbed it and ran.

*

The first bullet struck him in the thigh.

'Thirty seconds, Cap.’

‘Stand by.’

The second found his back.

_Bucky always was a good shot._

He could feel the discrete lumps of metal, displacing flesh and making themselves at home in pools of blood.

His leg wasn’t seriously injured, but the back shot sent him to his knees, and he knew it was bad, even before he saw the spreading red stain on the front of his suit.

Bucky was hurt too - his broken arm held close to his side. Unfortunately, he only needed one arm to fire and his left was apparently working just fine.

Steve had to do it.

There was no time.

Thirty seconds.

Less than that, now.

He had to _move._

*

‘Charlie, lock.’

He collapsed back to the floor, relieved. He had done it, the targeting system would destroy the aircraft and with it, all of HYDRA’s plans. The people were safe.

He looked back along the gantry. It was a very long way back to the ground, and he had already lost a lot of blood.

_It was worth it._

‘Okay Cap, get out of there.’

‘Fire now.’

‘But, Steve - ’

‘Do it! Do it now!’

He staggered to his feet just as the first missiles hit, and clung to the railing as the helicarrier jerked to the side, chunks of metal falling in a deadly rain.

He had to hope they were over deep water, then he had a chance to jump to safety. When Bucky inevitably followed him - to kill him - well, they could deal with that when it happened. He just hoped he wouldn’t get shot again before they had a chance to escape.

He heard a scream and looked down to find that a huge metal support had fallen and crushed Bucky’s chest, pinning him to the floor. He was alive and struggling, but Steve doubted even _he_ could lift something that size without help, let alone with a broken arm.

The metal and fire continued to crash all around them, the structure of the aircraft beginning to shake itself apart.

_He’s in trouble. Bucky needs help._

Not thinking, no longer aware of the exhaustion or the pain, Steve pushed himself off the ledge.

 

±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±

 

It's about you and the sun

A morning run

The story of my maker

What I have and what I ache for

 

I've got a golden ear

I cut and I spear

What else is there?

 **\- Röyksopp** **, What Else Is There?**

 

**[2014]**

 

**_Pain._ **

_Restrained._

_Helpless._

_*_

The Soldier struggled, but his arms were pinned to his sides. Something very heavy was crushing his chest.

He couldn’t breathe.

 _He had to escape._

_*_

The aircraft was breaking apart. Balls of flaming material fell all around, and the floor was shaking. It wouldn’t be long before it was completely destroyed.

_[‘Protect HYDRA assets.’]_

He had failed in that mission. He had to report.

_[‘Kill the target on sight.’]_

Where was the target?

A glimpse of blue high above.

A star.

*

**_‘I knew him.’_ **

*

Why did he keep hearing those words? Words were meaningless.

*

**_‘Steve… I’m sorry.’_ **

**_‘I found it, Bucky. Our ticket back!’_ **

*

He had to free himself.

The target must die.

He had to complete the mission.

He had to report.

*

**_Steve is dead._ **

**_Oh God, Steve is dead!_ **

**_Why does that make me - ?_ **

_*_

Lying curled up on his side in a dark room, tears falling silently down his cheeks. He bit his tongue through the pain that crushed his body, while his mind held onto a voice.

_That voice._

**_‘Come on, let’s go.’_ **

*

[‘ _Do not speak.’]_

_[‘Do not resist.’]_

_[‘Obey orders.’]_

*

The target approached.

The Soldier was unable to defend himself.

He would fail in his mission.

_[‘Your life belongs to HYDRA.’]_

He struggled anyway.

*

The target lifted the support beam. He was very strong. The Soldier’s right arm was still non-functional.

_[‘Kill them.’]_

He had no weapons, but the man must die.

*

**_Why?_ **

*

Why did the target hesitate?

Why did he free him from the wreckage?

He should have shot him or left him to die. This strategy made no sense, so why -

*

**_I don’t understand! Why did he help me?_ **

*

**_Why?_ **

*

No.

It didn’t matter.

*

He struggled to his feet. His body was weak from the impact. He had to act now.

_[‘Kill them.’]_

_[‘Obey.’]_

_[‘Submit!’]_

*

The target did not attack.

*

‘You _know me.’_

*

**_‘Bucky! Oh my God.’_ **

**_‘Is that - ?’_ **

*

_[You are a soldier.’]_

_[‘Your life belongs to HYDRA.’]_

_[‘Do not question.’]_

_[‘Do not speak.’]_

_[‘Do not resist.’]_

_*_

‘No I don’t!’

He struck the target, forbidden words forced through his mouth.

**_I can’t -_ **

**_I -_ **

*

Blue uniform.

White star.

Cold shield.

Warm hands.

*

**_Pain._ **

_They make me forget - I always forget!_

_I’m a prisoner. I have to escape._

_*_

Hope.

Despair.

Tears.

_Memories._

Always a trickle, then a flood.

*

**_‘Подчиняться. You will obey!’_ **

It didn’t matter.

It _couldn’t_ matter.

He had to complete his mission.

*

‘Bucky, You’ve known me your whole life.’

*

**_‘Stop making me laugh, Bucky. It hurts!’_ **

*

He struck again, but it wasn’t enough.

*

**_I -_ **

**_I don’t -_ **

*

‘Your name is James _Buchanan_ Barnes.’

*

**_‘Sergeant James Barnes. 32557038.’_ **

**_‘I’m James Barnes, but everyone calls me Bucky.’_ **

**_‘Bucky?’_ **

**_‘I’m sorry, Bucky.’_ **

**_‘James - I’m so sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you…’_ **

**_‘Thanks, Buck. I’m glad you’re here.’_ **

*

‘Shut up!’

This wasn’t part of the mission. It wasn’t in his orders.

**_Please don’t -_ **

He had to complete the mission, or he would be punished.

**_Pain._ **

_Memories?_

He didn’t want to know.

He _couldn’t_ know.

**_I have to -_ **

*

‘I’m not gonna fight you. You’re my friend.’

*

**_Friend?_ **

The shield is gone. It is an easy kill.

_[‘Kill him.’]_

_[‘Kill him!']_

_[‘Obey.’]_

_*_

‘You’re my mission.’

Why didn’t the man _understand?_ The Soldier _had_ to follow orders.

The mission was all that mattered.

*

**_‘But I knew him.’_ **

*

**_Pain._ **

It was gone.

No. There was -

**_\- No!_ **

*

‘You. Are. My. Mission!’

He pinned the man with his damaged arm and struck again and again. He was nearing the limits of his endurance, but the target was still breathing.

He had to kill him. Had to finish it.

*

‘Then finish it, ‘cause I’m with you to the end of the line.’

*

**_What?_ **

*

**_‘Together to the end of the line.’_ **

**_‘ - end of the line, pal.’_ **

**_‘Steve!’_ **

**_‘You got us out, Steve!’_ **

**_‘ - knew you’d come.’_ **

*

 _He_ **_will_ ** _come for me._

_No!_

_Steve is_ **_dead. He can’t save me._ **

****

****

_Please…_

_*_

The Soldier stopped short, his metal fist frozen before the killing blow.

Damaged blue eyes focused. The target lay there, watching him.

Helpless.

He wore a familiar uniform.

A familiar face.

The Soldier’s living hand was resting on a white star.

_Oh, God._

He _knew._

*

**_Steve?_ **

He was covered in blood. Injured.

*

**_I couldn’t save him._ **

**_I -_ **

*

_I know him._

**_I remember._ **

_He called me ‘Bucky.’_

_I called him ‘Steve.’_

_We -_

_*_

The floor caved in and the Soldier caught hold just in time, locking his metal fingers around a beam.

*

The man fell.

He was badly injured.

He would die.

*

_They told me to kill him._

He could remember orders and pain. Now there were other things too, crowding into his head.

Faces.

Warm light.

Soft grass.

*

They had taken his life from him, but he had always found a way back to himself eventually.

Even when it was too late.

*

_What happened?_

_I remember._

**_How?_ **

_*_

Something inside him wrenched as he saw the body hit the water far below. Before he had time to think, he released his grip and plummeted.

_Can I save him?_

_He’ll rescue me._

_I’m a prisoner of HYDRA. I have to escape!_

_*_

He could see breathing; shallow but steady. The man would live.

**_Steve? I -_ **

Everything was a blur. He had disobeyed orders, and the mission was a failure.

But he _knew_ now.

*

_I killed for them._

_So many missions. So many dead._

_They will come._

*

He had to escape.

*

_‘Captain America.’_

_Steve._

_Thank you._

*

He didn’t look back.

 

±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±

 

‘If all else perished, and _he_ remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger: I should not seem a part of it.’

― **Emily Brontë** , **Wuthering Heights**

 

**[2016]**

 

Bucharest was a very beautiful city. Steve wished that he had the time and attention to fully appreciate it. The pale buildings and balconies were so different from his old home in Brooklyn and the impersonal glass of Stark Tower. He walked the streets of the old town in a daze, barely looking up from the GPS on his phone. Luckily his obliviousness and slightly out of place civilian attire marked him as a distracted tourist and not a super soldier, which is exactly what he was hoping for.

Sam was waiting nearby, ready to follow when they needed air support.

_When we find him._

The best source had come from a large contracting firm in the city. A manager had reported someone fitting the Winter Soldier’s description working on a few of their construction sites in the past three months. They said he spoke Romanian well although with an accent, and had worked tirelessly doing manual labour for a few days at a time before disappearing. He hadn’t volunteered any information about himself, but other employees had commented several times on the man’s ‘quirk’ - he always wore a hat and gloves, even when the weather was mild.

_Oh, Bucky._

_*_

After encouraging their source to keep quiet - Steve wasn’t holding out much hope, the guy was nervous and he had probably talked already -he left the offices and started in the direction of Sector 5. Most of the developments the mysterious man - Bucky - had worked on were in that area, and the manager had guessed that he would live somewhere close. No one in the company ever saw him getting a bus or a tram.

_He wouldn’t need to. He wouldn’t get tired._

‘Sam, I’m heading to Rahova. It’s in the south-west of the city, Sector 5. It’s the most likely place for him to be hiding based on his known movements in the past few months. Apparently, he’s been working on construction sites for a while.’

‘Makes sense.’ Sam’s voice replied immediately in his earpiece. ‘He’ll need some way of making money that’s difficult to trace. I’m on my way to you now.’

‘Be careful.’ Steve murmured, pretending he was talking into the phone as he passed a group of people on the sidewalk. ‘Try not to let anyone spot you. There are others searching for him now, and the source gave nothing away - but he was scared. Very scared. I don’t think we have much time.’

‘Roger, Cap. See you soon.’

Steve fumbled his way through buying a tram ticket, the handful of words he had just learned in Romanian not helping much with larger numbers. He stood in a corner of the carriage, giving up on the pretence of studying his phone after a few minutes. There was no real way of staying inconspicuous here, and he had to hurry.

He had had an old photo of Bucky colourised and brought it with him, folded in his pocket. It made his heart twist to look at it; the tones were ever so slightly off but it was somehow more real than the grey memories in the museum. He hoped it would help, but part of him didn’t want to show anyone else the picture. It felt like a violation.

There were other more recent pictures available of course. The file Natasha had found for him contained several photographs of the Winter Soldier, along with fragments of medical records and reports dating all the way back to the 1940’s. Steve found he couldn’t look at them for long; they made him feel sick. He had translated and read the file, made notes of any leads they could pursue then locked the disgusting thing in a safe so he wouldn’t have to think about it anymore.

He still had nightmares.

_I should have gone back for you. I should have saved you, Bucky. I’m so sorry._

Now he understood why Natasha had been so sceptical. The contents of that file - he could have never imagined the horror. Bucky was trapped in that hell, for _seventy years._ No wonder he couldn’t remember. No wonder the Winter Soldier was the way he was. They had destroyed him, again and again.

_But, he saved me. He saved my life there, in the end. He recognised me! Some part of him can still think, and feel, and hope._

_I have to find him._

_*_

When he got off the tram at the Rahova market, he found a likely candidate in the owner of a central stall and put on his best ‘lost tourist’ voice.

‘Excuse me sir, do you speak English?’

‘Little. Just a little.’ The man replied, eyeing Steve suspiciously over the rims of his glasses.

‘Have you seen a foreign guy around here? Speaks Romanian, but not lived here long?’

‘Hmm…’ The man obviously didn’t trust him. His eyes narrowed further. ‘I have not seen any. Many people come to this market. Sorry.’

‘Okay, well thank you for your time sir.’

He tried a few other sellers, but with little success. It was a busy and chaotic place, which meant that if Bucky was staying near here he would probably have passed through or bought something - but it was also a location where he wouldn’t draw much attention. A few groups of tourists were wandering around, so an American wouldn’t be all that unusual. There were lots of entrances and exits to the market, several under cover, and it would be easy to lose anyone in the crowd.

_He’s had decades of training and practice at hiding from the authorities. He’ll be very good at it._

_‘Esti bine?_ Are you okay? Do you need help?’

An older woman interrupted his brooding. She stood among hundreds of flowers, in a stall near the very edge of the market. There was a perfect lily tucked into her greying hair.

‘Oh… yes. I’m looking for my friend.’ Steve replied without thinking. He hadn’t even tried to think of an excuse as to why he needed to find Bucky, but at least it was the truth. ‘I heard he might live around here.’

‘Is he Romanian?’ She sounded interested, and Steve had to remind himself that they were on borrowed time. He couldn’t afford to be too cautious if it meant he would get a lead.

‘He can speak Romanian, but he’s foreign like me - American.’ He smiled warmly at her and she returned it, blushing. Sometimes being ‘New Steve’ had other benefits besides the physical, including apparently charming people into giving him information. ‘He only moved here a few months ago and I’d like to catch up with him but - ’ He gestured to the bustling market around them. ‘- I’m afraid I’m a bit lost.’

‘Oh! Where do you need?’

She seemed to trust him, so he took a deep breath and pulled the photograph from his pocket.

‘I’m not sure. I haven’t seen him in a while. We served in the army together.’

She studied the picture, and after a few seconds her eyes lit up in recognition.

‘This looks like Andrei, but he is different now. Long hair.’ She gestured to the top of her shoulders to demonstrate, and Steve could feel the beginnings of hope uncurl from the pit of his stomach.

‘Andrei? Yes, of course.’ He said, trying not to sound too desperate. ‘Do you know him?’

‘I see him in my building.’ She pointed to a nondescript apartment block on the other side of the market square. ‘He is quiet, but a very polite man. Helped me to carry the flowers.’

 _The Winter Soldier_ _carried_ ** _flowers?_**

‘Do you know which apartment, ma’am?’

‘No, but it must be the high floors. He always walks past me - up the stairs.’ She clasped her hands together in sympathy.‘I hope you find him.’

‘I hope so too, and thank you - Mulțumesc.’ Steve almost broke into a run as he turned away, and he had to remind himself to slow down and act more natural. He dodged around startled shoppers as he cut across the square.

‘Sam?’

‘I’m here.’

‘I have a possible location. I’ll need the suit. Do you see the rooftop with the red water tower?’

‘Way ahead of you, Cap. Meet you there.’

*

After reuniting with Sam on the roof, Steve changed into his uniform and collected the shield. Sam had noticed armed forces mobilising on his way across the city, and a marked increase in air activity. He pulled back to hide a short distance away, keeping watch.

Steve dropped down the fire escape until he was at roughly the middle of the building, then quietly broke the lock to the hallway with a twist of his hand and stepped inside. A narrow stairwell snaked up above him, and it looked like there were four apartments per floor. He didn’t have time to check all of them, but the woman in the market had said it would be near the top.

He started knocking on doors. It seemed like a lot of people weren’t home. It was the middle of the day and the building was quiet. He heard faint sounds coming from some of the apartments but no one answered, and Steve didn’t want to damage anything or cause a scene unless he had to. The less warning he gave of his presence, the better. He climbed higher inside the building, noting that the upper floors were more neglected. Some of the apartments were boarded up or perhaps abandoned.

_It’s here. He’ll be around here somewhere. An untraceable location._

_Will he recognise me, or will he attack?_

_Why is the Winter Soldier living here if he was going to bomb Vienna? It doesn’t make any sense._

As he continued to work his way through the apartments on each floor, a door inched open a crack a few feet away and someone peered out. Steve lunged and shoved his hand into the space before a startled young woman could close it again, her brown eyes huge and terrified. She started to scream but managed to choke it back when he hushed her.

‘I’m not going to hurt you.’ He said quickly, though he knew the words wouldn’t do much good with him in full combat gear and carrying a weapon. ‘I’m looking for Andrei. My height, long brown hair.’ He paused. ‘He’s my friend, and he’s in trouble. I’m here to help.’

‘Andrei?’ She gasped, her slender body crumpling in on itself. _‘El nu a făcut nimic rău._ I'm sorry, but why?’

‘If you know something you have to tell me. I don’t have much time.’

‘You won’t hurt him? Hurt me?’ There were tears in her eyes, and the hand he could see on the doorframe trembled.

‘Of course not, but there are men coming who _will_ hurt him if they find him. Do you understand?’

She nodded slowly, wiping her eyes.

‘Please, just let me know where he lives. I have to find him.’

‘You are his - friend?’ She studied his face closely, looking for a lie.

‘Yes.’

After a short pause where a silent understanding passed between them, Steve could see her gather herself and straighten up. She took a conscious breath, making a decision.

‘Three floors above. The last room. He didn’t say but I followed him before - _Gatesc și_ \- Sorry - I give him food. He is kind.’ She sniffed. ‘Please, help him.’

‘I will.’ Steve promised. ‘Thank you. You need to stay inside until we’re gone. Don’t open the door again, no matter what you hear. Understand?’

She nodded, eyes wide.

‘Thanks.’

He barely heard the soft click of her door as he sprinted up the stairs, half a dozen at a time.

*

The Winter Soldier’s - Bucky’s - apartment was strange. It wasn’t what he had expected at all.

Some things made sense to Steve. All the windows were covered, and the frames nailed shut. There was no way anyone could see inside. Mail was left around the front door, which gave the impression the place was uninhabited. All standard methods to disguise a bolt hole.

Inside, there were obvious signs someone had lived there for a while. A mattress on the floor with a sleeping bag and pillow, packets of food and dishes scattered about and towels hanging in the cramped bathroom all pointed to a full-time occupant.

There were no weapons or anything HYDRA related that he could see, but maybe that was the point. They were probably well hidden nearby.

Makeshift shelves on the wall caught his attention. They held quite a few notebooks of varying designs, and stacks of old newspapers in several languages, most of which Steve didn’t recognise. French, Russian, one that was perhaps Italian or Spanish, he could guess a smaller pile was in Romanian… and others too?

_Can he understand all of these? Is he looking for something?_

He walked towards the back door, but he could see it was bolted shut from the inside. Something on top of the refrigerator caught his attention, and he moved aside some food to pull out yet another notebook.

_HYDRA’s top assassin eats caramel wafers and cheese sandwiches. Are you kidding me?_

The scribbled writing in the book was also not what he expected. It was disjointed, but even at a glance obviously some kind of journal or diary. Steve didn’t want to look too closely, afraid of what he might find. His thoughts kept straying to the medical reports, the x-rays, the _statistics._ His heart stopped when he flipped through a few more pages, and suddenly a photo of himself was staring back at him. It was one of the promotional postcards he had seen for sale in tourist centres in the States - one of his old Captain America photos from the 1940’s when they first formed the Howling Commandos. He had thought the publicity so embarrassing at the time. Now though, when he saw it he didn’t know what he should feel. Did Bucky remember him, or was this how he planned to track him down to kill him?

_It doesn’t matter. I have to find him._

‘Heads up Cap, German special forces approaching from the south.’

Sam came over the comm, his voice even. Steve knew he had to leave. Bucky wasn’t here, but perhaps they could get to him another way.

‘Understood.’

Steve suddenly felt a prickling on the back of his neck and turned around. Even though a part of him expected it, to see Bucky - the Winter Soldier - standing there took all of his breath away.

_It’s him. Oh God, it’s really him. We did it!_

It had been almost two years since Steve had gotten a good look at Bucky, but he hadn’t changed much. It was strange to see him in civilian clothing - neither of them had worn anything other than a uniform for years when they last knew each other. Now Bucky was in worn jeans and a jacket, and his long hair was pushed under a baseball cap. Thick gloves covered his hands, which were held stiffly at his sides. He didn’t look as pale as he had in DC, but his eyes were tired and wary. He waited motionless near the doorway to the apartment, watching Steve without blinking.

_He doesn’t stand quite like the Winter Soldier did. Is he armed? I don’t think so, but he’s afraid._

_That’s new._

‘Do you know me?’

Steve wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer. They were heading into a combat situation, and if Bucky didn’t recognise him he would have a whole other bag of problems. He wasn’t sure how he could get them both out without casualties if the Winter Soldier decided he wanted to hurt him.

‘You’re Steve. I read about you in a museum.’

Bucky’s voice was calm and he didn’t move, but his eyes flickered past Steve to the back door. Analysing. Seeking a way out.

‘They've set the perimeter.’

Sam was reminding Steve that he had to hurry, but it was Bucky right there, and he was _talking._ He’d been to the Smithsonian and looked at the displays.

_I was right._

‘I know you're nervous, and you have plenty of reason to be. But you're lying.’ Steve said, trying to keep his voice steady.

He realised he was still holding the diary and placed it self-consciously on the counter. Now wasn’t the time to discuss their old war stories. He had to find out if the Winter Soldier was still dangerous. So far he seemed fairly lucid but then again there was the Vienna bombing, and what had happened on the helicarrier -

‘I wasn't in Vienna. I don't do that anymore.’ Bucky interrupted his train of thought. He didn’t seem angry or hostile, just matter-of-fact.

‘They're entering the building.’ Sam was tense, they _had_ to leave.

Steve couldn’t be sure that Bucky spoke the truth, but all his instincts told him to trust. He was sure that the Winter Soldier he met two years ago wouldn’t stand and quietly speak with him like this. At any rate, it didn’t make a difference to the immediate plan.

‘Well, the people who think you did are coming here now. And they're not planning on taking you alive.’

_I’m not your enemy, Bucky._

Bucky’s posture didn’t change, he just nodded, still calm.

‘That's smart. Good strategy.’

‘They're on the roof. I'm compromised.’ Sam’s voice cut off abruptly, and Steve mentally said a quick prayer for his friend, hoping he would get away in time.

‘This doesn't have to end in a fight, Buck.’

 _Please, trust me. Part of you_ **_knows_ ** _who I am._

Steve wasn’t sure exactly what he was hoping for - that maybe they could both get down the outside of the building and into a vehicle? However, from what Sam was describing, it seemed they were out of luck. They would have to fight their way free.

Bucky was now looking at the ceiling, tracking the noise of the approaching forces. He took a step towards the front door and sighed.

‘It always ends in a fight.’

_He sounds exhausted. Has he been running all this time?_

‘Five seconds.’ Good old Sam. Steve owed him a beer if they got back in one piece.

‘You pulled me from the river. Why?’ Steve asked, impatience creeping into his voice.

_You could have left me to die and completed your mission. Instead, you saved my life. What happened? What changed?_

He found himself staring at Bucky’s hands as he removed the gloves, silver knuckles standing out in the dim room. The movements of the metal hand made a quiet humming sound. Bucky still hadn’t made a move to draw a weapon.

_Who are you going to fight?_

Steve had to know. Did they have _any_ chance with this?

‘I don't know.’ Bucky seemed confused, frustrated. He wouldn’t meet Steve’s eyes.

‘Three seconds!’

‘Yes, you do.’

_Come on. Remember me, Buck. Please. I’m trying to help you!_

‘Breach! Breach! Breach!’

 

±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±

 

**The File [Part 1]**

 

KGB Division for the Dnepropetrovsk Region

Classified

 

Case No. 17

Volume 2

 

_James Barnes - Military record of maintenance, deployment and experimentation_

 

_Opened: March 23rd, 1945_

Internal communication, February 4th, 1945 [Translated from Russian]

Commander,

We have taken possession of the subject. The left arm suffered a traumatic amputation in the incident, but other injuries have healed with remarkable speed. It is clear that the Doctor’s work was at least partially successful.

The subject currently refuses to co-operate. We have begun standard interrogation techniques, and estimate three to seven days until full compliance.

I request permission to use advanced methods when necessary, taking into account the subject’s enhanced regenerative abilities. We do not anticipate any complications at this stage.

All assigned personnel have attended a briefing on the procedures agreed in our last conference. At this time the threat is minimal, and the subjugation protocol is level 3 non-lethal, to be reviewed in three days.

 

Signed,

Иван Петрович Буряков

[Ivan Petrovich Buryakov]

 

Chief of Special Operations

 

*

Internal communication, February 8th, 1945 [Translated from Russian]

 

Commander,

Apologies for the delay. The subject is proving difficult to break. Either the enhancement is more extensive than we thought, or the mind is unusually resilient.

Subjugation is now at level 2. The superior healing factor prevents any permanent damage.

Nutrition reduced by 40%. The medical staff have calculated the minimum requirements for function.

Thank you for the go-ahead for the advanced program. We start tomorrow.

As we discussed I do not believe the subject to possess any intelligence of value to us, but transcripts of all sessions will be delivered to you promptly.

All attempts to reverse engineer the serum have so far been unsuccessful. It would appear that without the Doctor’s expertise, the subject will remain our only source for the foreseeable future. Research is ongoing.

 

Signed,

 

Иван Петрович Буряков

[Ivan Petrovich Buryakov]

 

Chief of Special Operations

 

*

Internal communication, June 19th, 1945 [Translated from Russian]

 

Commander,

 

The recent spate of adverse incidents involving the subject has now ceased. We are confident that the program is now effective and the chance of further resistance is minimal.

The mental integrity of the subject has reduced as planned, but physical capabilities remain enhanced. Subject still attempts physical conditioning, however the current containment area is sufficient. 24 hour guard will remain as a precaution against further incidents.

No progress on the serum can be made with our current resources. Our international contacts are looking for solutions to the problem.

The subject will remain in the containment area as an asset. I have been informed by the research team that they need more data for future experiments.

 

Signed,

 

Иван Петрович Буряков

[Ivan Petrovich Buryakov]

 

Chief of Special Operations

 

*

Medical Record [Translated from Russian]

 

**02/02/1945**

**Technician Yeliseyev**

 

Assessment, 11:05

BP: 70/50

RHR: 51BPM

ECG: Sinus rhythm

Temp: 36.6C

 

Approx 28yo male

Medical History - Unknown. Scarring to left thigh. Previous medical experimentation. Exact details not yet confirmed.

Traumatic amputation at left proximal humerus - Vessels ligated. Tissues sutured and dressed.

Fractures of clavicle and 2nd-4th ribs, left side.

Undisplaced bimalleolar fracture of right ankle.

Fractures of left zygoma, left mandibular condyle and parasymphysis. - Reduced.

Multiple contusions and lacerations to torso and limbs. - Cleaned.

Subgaleal haematoma of occipital region - ? Unknown intracranial injuries

Conjunctival haemorrhages bilaterally.

 

Unable to assess cognition due to level of sedation. Pupils minimally responsive.

Drug tolerance high - Recommendation to begin at 6x standard dose, confirmed with senior staff. To be reviewed every 2 hours.

Untested physical enhancements due to previous experimentation. To be considered hostile and dangerous. Armed guards present at all times. 2x technicians for all interventions.

 

Plan - Monitor recovery rate and keep sedated until further notice. NG nutrition and hydration if required.

 

*

**05/02/1945**

**Doctor Malinovsky**

 

Assessment, 10:31

BP: 110/50

RHR: 80BPM

ECG: Intermittent tachycardia, resolved after sedation.

Temp: 38.1C

 

Unsettled past 24 hours. Amputation site now healed but subject remains agitated. Sedation ineffective except in the very highest doses. Anaesthesia not currently indicated as part of the security program. Fractures and minor injuries mostly healed. Subject does not co-operate with tests but senses and mobility appear to be at baseline. No evidence of infection.

Nutrition noted to assist healing process and enhancement. Currently withheld for security reasons.

Plan - Continue to maintain baseline condition of subject during security program. Monitor healing rates using chart. Blood samples to be sent to the research division every 48 hours with accompanying documentation.

 

*

**27/05/1945**

**Doctor Malinovsky**

 

Assessment, 14:44

BP: 110/60

RHR: 49BPM

ECG: Sinus rhythm

Temp: 37.9C

 

Nutrition increased. New formulas of sedative and psychotropics lasted for approximately 5 hours. Subject eats independently but shows no higher cognitive behaviours. Evidence of auditory and visual hallucinations.

Physical condition stable. Wounds not sanitised as per current study. Healing rate unaffected. Pain threshold normal. Crush fractures to sternum, ribs and right ulna sustained on 22/05 now healed. No overgrowth or scarring. Bone and blood samples sent.

Plan - Continue studies. Increase dosing regimen.

 

*

**21/11/1945**

**Technician Shokalsky**

 

Assessment, 11:05

BP: 110/50

RHR: 53BPM

ECG: Sinus rhythm

Temp: 38.3C

 

2/7 post surgery. No evidence of infection or rejection.

 

Implants:

Hypothalamus - Signal detected. Inactive

Amygdala - Signal detected. Inactive

Cerebellum - Signal detected. Inactive

T3 - Signal detected. Active

L. Soleus - Signal detected. Active

L. Prosthetic - Grafted tissues intact. Nerve signals intact. Unable to assess full function due to sedation. Estimated healing time currently 48-60 hours at the standard rate.

 

Blood - Serum levels remain high. Haemoglobin structure unaffected. Hyperkalaemia and Hypercalcaemia -? a side effect of the serum. Currently asymptomatic.

 

Imaging - Hydrocephalus in the 3rd ventricle and midline shift noted. Cerebral oedema. To be reviewed tomorrow. Drains checked and confirmed to be patent.

 

Plan - Record implant signals every 12 hours. All reports to be sent to Doctor Zola directly. Assess graft and function once sedation is metabolised. Full blood workup twice daily. Remove drains.

 

*

**24/11/1945**

**Doctor Malinovsky**

 

Assessment, 10:15

BP: 100/50

RHR: 90BPM

ECG: Brief episodes of Atrial Fibrillation, self-terminating.

Temp: 38.1C

 

All implants and grafts fully functional. No signs of infection or rejection. Inflammation resolved.

 

Blood - Serum markers stable. Electrolytes still abnormal but subject remains asymptomatic - ? new baseline.

 

Imaging - Hydrocephalus resolved. Oedema greatly reduced. All implants in situ.

 

Subject showing greatly increased levels of agitation and disorientation. Incidences of extreme violence. 7x casualties, 3x fatal. Security increased until further notice. No changes to current sedation regimen without instructions from Doctor Zola. Nutrition withheld until further notice.

 

Plan - Implant activation and conditioning procedures as soon as possible. Prepare for cryostasis and transfer, to be completed within the next 7 days.

 

±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±

 

Here I am  
and there is my body

dancing on glass

 **―** **Sarah Kane** **,** **4.48 Psychosis**

 

**[2014]**

 

He could feel the earth beneath his fingers and smell thick leaves and damp greenery all around him. There was a slight breeze that brought with it faint noises from passing traffic and the nearby river.

He was kneeling, his head down. Motionless. He had been there for hours; waiting. Seeing nothing. People walked along a path within just a few metres of his hiding place, but no one found him. They would have screamed if they had.

He was used to remaining in such positions for days at a time, and his body did not complain. His mind however, was elsewhere.

*

**_‘I’m sorry, Bucky.’_ **

**_‘No! We have to do something!’_ **

*

**_‘Steve?’_ **

_I was -_

_I was a prisoner._

_Steve found me. He saved me._

_*_

_[‘You being to HYDRA.’]_

_[‘Eliminate these targets. No witnesses.’]_

_[‘I’m ready.’]_

*

**_‘Please don’t make me do this.’_ **

**_‘You’re my mission.’_ **

**_‘Then finish it, ‘cause I’m with you to the end of the line.’_ **

*

_I don’t understand. Where am I?_

_*_

The Soldier shuddered and blinked rapidly, pushing his tangled hair away from his eyes. He slowly lifted his head and took in his immediate surroundings, keeping the rest of his body unnaturally still. He was crouched in a group of large bushes in what looked like a public park. Directly in front of him across a short expanse of lawn was a huge tree, the branches heavy with leaves and berries. There were a few small flowers scattered around the base of its massive trunk.

*

_The tree. I was here, and then -_

_What happened?_

*

Hands clawing at the dirt beneath the tree, the skin torn and blistered.

Tears on his cheeks.

An embrace.

Cold ground.

*

_Wait. It doesn’t look right._

_*_

He tried to summon the image of the tree again in his mind. He saw thick branches spread wide, bare earth under the canopy, a glimpse of someone standing next to him. Someone short, their face turned away. Crying.

*

_It’s not here._

*

What he kept seeing was similar, but not the same. This wasn’t the same tree, though it might have looked like it from a distance.

*

_Why did I come here?_

_Did I -_

_Did I_ **_remember?_ **

*

The Soldier had no memory of arriving at the park. He had thought to _escape_ and he had flashes of walking beside a river, but after that - nothing.

_My arm -_

_It was damaged._

He looked down. His right arm mirrored the left on the ground, both palms in the dirt. As he focused he registered pain, but it did not seem as bad as the echo in his mind from earlier.

*

_He braced himself against a low wall, and snapped the bone back into place, gritting his teeth as pain exploded in the elbow joint. He flexed it a few times to check the position, then continued to walk, ducking out of sight as helicopters came into view overhead._

*

So, he had set the break at some point. It would heal.

_Why didn’t I know that? Parts are missing._

The Soldier mentally shook himself. This wasn’t useful. He had to get information; find out what he _did_ know. First, he was in a park that reminded him of somewhere else, most likely because of the tree.

He was in Washington DC, in the United States. He was brought here to complete a mission for HYDRA.

They - HYDRA? - erased his memories, but fragments were coming back. He vaguely recalled it happening _before,_ in a cold and dark room. When they found out the memories had returned, they hurt him. This time though, they didn’t know where he was. If he stayed hidden, they couldn’t do it again.

He had been given orders. This was common _,_ but now it was different. He could still hear the words, but he didn’t feel the need to obey. In fact, the thought made him feel ill and his legs shake.

*

_A gun recoiling in his hands. In the distance, the target’s head exploded in a shower of gore, his young family too shocked to react._

_The Soldier was already running when the screaming started._

_Walking through fire to reach a crawling woman, her legs broken beneath her. He wrapped a hand around her throat. A snap, and she dropped limply to the floor._

_The knife slid through flesh without a sound. The man was unable to speak. A thin line of blood escaped his lips. The Soldier held the blade steady until the struggling stopped, weak hands trying to push him away. He ignored the distraction and pressed down harder. Soon everything was still._

*

_Oh, God!_

_I don’t - No - I_ **_can’t_** _do it anymore._

_They did something to me._

_So then why did I -_

_Wait. Stop. Think._

_*_

**_‘You know me.’_ **

**_‘Bucky, you’ve known me your whole life.’_ **

*

It was that man. The one who called himself ‘Steve.’ They were fighting, but then -

Steve had called him ‘Bucky.’ It was familiar, but out of reach. Was that his name? He hadn’t thought about it before. He didn’t need a name to follow orders. He was a soldier, and that’s all anyone called him. Now though there were new voices, and they seemed to think his name was ‘Bucky’. There were other names too, but that one was the one he heard the most.

He could see Steve clearly in his mind, and he knew the feeling of that blue uniform under his hands.

_How?_

Was it real?

**_‘You’re my friend.’_ **

Other images of Steve came to him in flashes, but it was all jumbled. They were sitting at a table in an apartment, and also standing outside. In the snow, and on hot stone steps. Eating, but then fighting. Different places; snow, forest, streets, ruins, fire. Steve was short, but also tall and strong. A child, and a grown man.

_Who is he? How do I know him?_

_He wasn’t with me in - when I was a prisoner._

_I escaped. I left without reporting back._

_They’ll try to find me._

_*_

It was almost dark now. A man walked past him carrying a lock for the gates. The park would be empty until morning.

_The tree. What is it?_

_Why am I -_

Once he was sure it was dark enough to stay hidden, he slowly got to his feet. The muscles in his legs protested as they got used to moving again, but he ignored them. It wasn’t relevant.

He walked silently across the perfect lawn until he was underneath the canopy, the leaves completely blocking out the clear sky. His eyes were drawn down to the trunk, where the ground beneath was damp and sprinkled with wildflowers.

He placed his right hand against the rough bark, feeling the little catches on his sensitive fingertips as he gently dragged them all the way down to the ground. Something tightened in his chest, and he knelt, fingers burrowing into that soft dark earth.

_It wasn’t like this. The ground was hard and dry. It _hurt._ So why -_

_Why does this make me_ **_feel?_ **

_*_

The Soldier stayed under the tree until it was almost dawn. He wasn’t aware of his body trembling, the fresh tears drying on his cheeks, or the dew slowly soaking into his clothes. Faces passed through his mind; living and dead. Impressions of touch, and of being touched. Kindness, and pain. He stayed within himself and cried for a loss he didn’t fully understand.

A tree.

An embrace.

Then, and now.

*

When the warden came to open the park gates in the morning, he discovered that the lock on the supply shed was completely destroyed and several items of clothing were missing. Strangely, none of the valuable machinery had been taken, but one of the shovels had been put back without being cleaned. He made a mental note to complain to the gardeners once he reported the break-in. 

He didn’t notice that a patch of soil in front of the central tree was freshly dug. The wildflowers were gone.

 


	3. Phase 3 - Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Graphic animal injuries, animal death and minor character death. Please read the tags and proceed with caution.
> 
> Thank you for the kudos and comments, it's much appreciated :)

**[Phase 3- Reunion]**  


The moment we believe that we have never met  
Another kind of love it's easy to forget  
When we are all alone then we do both agree  
We have a thing in common  
this was meant to be

**\- The Knife, Marble House  
**

 

****

**[2016]**

Sam pulled them both from the river. He didn’t ask questions, just quickly led Steve to a nearby car and helped him manhandle an unconscious Bucky onto the back seat before speeding away.

Steve was grateful for the silence. He couldn’t find the words to explain his stuttering thoughts, couldn’t even to try and begin to make sense of what had just happened. Steve and Sam both had livid marks around their necks from the grip of the Winter Soldier, and there were an untold number of casualties left behind; dead, broken and bleeding. His mind flashed to rotors spinning towards his face and he shivered. He hadn’t stood that close to death in a long time. 

Something had happened in the containment cell, and it had destroyed any traces of Bucky inside the Soldier. His eyes were as blank as when Steve fought him in DC and he hadn’t hesitated to attack or kill anyone in his way, whereas in Bucharest Steve had noticed he had been pulling his punches and trying not to do any serious harm. Steve knew that Bucky could have easily killed their pursuers then, but he hadn’t even tried to use a weapon, instead leaving the dozens of rifles and batons where they fell. 

The Bucky he had met in Romania was hesitant and afraid. Steve couldn’t be sure, but he thought that Bucky had begun to remember some of his old life. The diary and the pictures - those were very personal. Bucky had been trying to repair his memories. The thought made Steve’s stomach twist. Something had erased all that in an instant, and an emotionless assassin had once again worn his friend’s face. 

He turned around in the car. Bucky was bleeding from a wound on his head but it looked superficial, and his breathing was even. If he was anything like Steve, his body would already be healing itself. They had to figure out what to do, and fast.

‘Sam, we have to take him somewhere safe.’

Sam glanced at him and nodded as he concentrated on weaving their vehicle carefully but confidently through the busy lanes of traffic. They could hear helicopters and sirens in all directions and he couldn’t afford to draw any attention with reckless driving.

‘You think he’ll come after us again when he wakes up?’ Sam asked. ‘We won’t be able to hold him on our own. He broke outta that cell like it was nothing.’

‘I don’t know, Sam.’ Steve said. ‘He was doing okay before that doctor did - whatever he did - down there. Maybe it’ll wear off.’ Steve could hear the desperate hope in his words, and hated himself that he had to question it at all.

‘That’s one hell of a big ‘maybe’ Cap. He’s dangerous.’ 

‘I know, but I can’t give up on him just yet. We need to work out what happened with the doctor, and why they wanted us to find him and bring him here. There must be a bigger reason behind all this.’ Steve drummed his fingers anxiously on the dashboard as he tried to think.

‘A lot of people are dead. Isn’t that enough?’ Sam looked at him with a raised eyebrow, skeptical. 

‘No. If they just wanted to kill hundreds of people, there are much easier ways.’ Steve sighed. ‘This was a set up from the beginning. Someone wanted to get the Avengers here, and for this to happen. They arranged for Bucky to break out. Now we have to work out how, and why.’

‘What if our friend back there isn’t in the mood for talking?’ Sam said, with a nod towards the rear of the car.

‘We figure something else out, but first we have to get out of sight and secure him so he can’t hurt anyone; then come up with a plan.’

‘How the hell are we gonna do that? He mowed us down.’ Sam snapped, jerking his thumb back at Bucky. ‘He wasn’t even armed and he took out two dozen special forces. If he wanted to he could’ve killed us all.’

‘I don’t think he had specific orders to kill, just to escape.’ Steve mused. ‘He had the opportunity to do even more damage, but he didn’t - just went straight through us to the chopper.’

‘That doesn’t make me feel any better, Cap.’

‘We’re prepared for it this time. We should be able to hold him long enough for me to try to get through to him.’

‘And if you can’t?’ 

‘Then I’ll do what I have to.’ Steve ground out through his teeth, gripping his fingers so tightly in his lap they hurt. 

If he was honest with himself, Steve wasn’t sure that he could do it at all. He knew it was selfish. Would Bucky really want to be left as the Winter Soldier again? Steve’s thoughts strayed back to the KGB file. The constant torture and the shattering of Bucky’s memories - HYDRA had killed him every time they woke him up. Would it be kinder to stop it for good? Would it be an act of mercy?

But, Bucky had _known Steve’s name._ He hadn’t tried to kill anyone in his apartment, and instead only used enough force to allow himself to get away. Those weren’t the actions of a heartless murderer: it was a frightened man trying to escape execution.

Sam didn’t look particularly convinced by Steve’s declaration but he bit his tongue on a reply and kept his eyes on the road. When he saw a turning for an industrial complex he quickly peeled out of the queue of cars, taking a deserted path to an old industrial area. He pulled inside one of the empty buildings, and once they were out of sight killed the engine and jumped out, checking quickly and efficiently around the doors and windows for signs of pursuit before running back to the car.

Steve opened his own car door slowly, listening. The sirens were fainter now. The security forces must have decided they would try to get out of the city and focused their attention on blocking the exits. 

‘This looks good Sam.’ Steve said, checking on Bucky once more. He hadn’t moved. ‘I need to find a way to immobilise him for a while.’

‘He’s as strong as you, isn’t he? It’s not gonna be easy.’

‘Yeah, but I think I have an idea.’ Steve thought back to the fight on the helicarrier. ‘We’ll need something heavy - very heavy.’

*

‘D’you really think that’ll work?’ Sam peered at the machine press, arms folded in suspicion. ‘It doesn’t look as strong as the cuffs.’

‘It’s heavy, bolted to the floor, and it won’t allow him any leverage to help him break it apart.’ Steve said, trying to sound more confident than he felt.

He ran his hands carefully over the mechanism, then lowered the press until just a small gap remained. ‘Help me with him?’

Sam sighed, but together they picked Bucky up from where he was lying nearby on the floor. The head wound had stopped oozing blood, but his limbs had begun to twitch in the last few minutes and Sam kept jerking his head at every little movement. It wouldn’t be long before he woke up.

With Sam bracing Bucky’s body with his knees and Steve lifting him under the arms, they managed to manoeuvre him awkwardly into a slumped sitting position on a box, and Steve carefully positioned the metal arm on the base of the machine. Holding onto the cold fingers to keep them steady, he slowly lowered the press until he heard the groan of metal, then gave a few experimental tugs to make sure it was secure. Bucky didn’t stir again. If the crush of the press hurt him there was no way for Steve to tell, but they were rapidly running out of options.

‘There. I don’t think I could get out of that; not easily anyway.’ Steve let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. They had bought themselves some time, if nothing else.

‘It’ll have to be good enough.’ Sam said, relaxing his hold and resting Bucky’s body against the side of the machine. ‘Sleeping Beauty won’t be out for much longer.’

Steve knelt to check Bucky’s head wound again and saw the flicker of eye movements under closed lids. Bucky’s breathing hitched for a second, and Steve quickly jerked his hands away and turned back to Sam.

‘I’m gonna check we weren’t followed. Let me know when he’s up?’

‘Sure Cap. Just get back here quick, okay? I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have a bad feeling about this.’

Steve nodded and jogged across the factory floor until he could peer out through a dirty and broken window toward the city. There were still a lot of helicopters in the air, but they were thankfully nowhere close to where they were hiding. He chewed on a fingernail, his body tense and still flooded with adrenaline. All his instincts were to keep running and not look back, but they couldn’t leave Bucky as he was, and they had to come up with a plan. 

The Accords were a complete disaster, but Steve still wanted to find a way to work with Tony. If only the stubborn man could see the problems with what he had signed! Neither of them could back down now. Tony just couldn’t see the dangers of classifying people as weapons in their own right. Steve pictured Wanda locked in the Avengers compound ‘for her own good’ and ground his teeth in frustration. The government would do that to him if they could. They would do that to Bucky. Bucky had been a prisoner for over 70 years. It would be obscene to put him in a cage again.

He sighed, turning away from the sky, his head in his hands. Now they were in trouble with yet more agencies, and he couldn’t let his mind dwell on what would happen if Bucky didn’t remember him - what he had convinced himself he would have to do if the Winter Soldier was still a danger.

It had been so long that the thought of seeing Bucky again had been just a tiny seed that he never dared cultivate, in case it all came to nothing and left him broken. He told himself that he couldn’t set himself up for another loss like that in his lifetime, but in the apartment in Bucharest hope had exploded again in his chest and he had felt the decades fall away in an instant. 

He had to hold onto that hope. Bucky had come back from what had been done to him once before, and Steve had to believe he could do it again. Whatever HYDRA had used - it could be fought. He shuddered at the memory of those empty eyes and the relentless crush of metal around his throat, pressing his fingertips to the bruises absently. There had been no warning. Bucky had been quiet and docile as they were arrested and driven to the facility. He hadn’t even tried to resist when they were surrounded, and followed Steve’s lead in giving himself up. What had changed?

Steve couldn’t comprehend it. He was now all too familiar with the correct terminology from the KGB file and from what others like Natasha had told him: ‘brainwashing’ ’conditioning’ ‘memory wiping’ ‘programming’ - but he just couldn’t wrap his head around how such a thing worked. Was it part of the effects of the serum? Had they changed something, or damaged something in Bucky’s brain? Steve couldn’t remember thinking any differently after his own transformation, but he had been confused and awkward with the situation for a while so it was hard to tell. He would have to compare notes with Bucky, if they were ever in a position to have a normal conversation with each other again.

‘Hey, Cap!’ Sam’s urgent call broke through his worries, and Steve ran back across the room, trying not to visibly panic.

Bucky was waking up. He groaned and tried to raise his head, eyes glassy and unfocused. Steve and Sam placed themselves on either side of him, their backs to the wall. They shared a nervous look, both reluctant to speak and take chances with their words. While Bucky appeared groggy and weak as he stirred, Steve and Sam braced themselves anyway, ready to react to any threat. 

*

It took a couple of minutes for Bucky to become aware of his surroundings. He slowly lifted his head and pulled himself more upright with his free hand, then turned to look at his arm in the press, though he gave no sign that it was hurting him. Steve could hear a mechanical hum inside the metal arm as Bucky flexed his fingers, realising he was trapped. He stared at the arm for another minute, face pinched in confusion, but he didn’t thrash around or try to break the machine. His soft gaze drifted from the press across to the opposite wall. When his eyes fell on Steve, they froze. Steve could feel his heart skip again as Bucky’s eyes fixed on him. There was no blankness this time; this was recognition.

‘Steve.’

Bucky’s voice was quiet and hoarse, but not bad for someone who had been in a helicopter crash and probably had concussion. He didn’t sound aggressive, but Steve’s eyes were drawn to the restless twitching of metal fingers and his jaw clenched as he remembered their deadly hold.

‘Which ‘Bucky’ am I talking to?’ 

Steve couldn’t keep the hard edge from his voice. If the Winter Soldier was still in control he couldn’t afford to show any weakness, and the thought that Bucky may be out of reach again was almost too much for him to take. 

‘Your mom's name was Sarah.’ Bucky’s eyes slid away from Steve for a second as he thought. Something registered in his face and he laughed, voice low. ‘You used to wear newspapers in your shoes.’ 

He had. Steve couldn’t help but smile. Bucky had teased him about it with that same softness a lifetime ago. He could almost hear the music and taste the fire of spirits on his tongue.

‘You can't read that in a museum.’ Steve said to Sam, whose eyebrows threatened to escape his hairline at the exchange.

It didn’t matter. Steve was convinced - no matter what had happened back at the facility - it couldn’t be the Winter Soldier sitting there now; it was his oldest friend. Sam didn’t seem so sure.

‘Just like that, we're supposed to be cool?’ Sam said, looking between the two of them in muted disbelief.

Steve didn’t blame him really. Sam couldn’t possibly know. He didn’t share their private memories, the secrets and understanding that Steve was missing so desperately. It was all there stretched thin between them as they stared at each other. Bucky had stopped trying to move . In fact, Steve realised, he was holding his body very still and hunched, in an attempt to make himself seem as unthreatening as possible.

‘What did I do?’ 

Bucky sounded anxious but not surprised, and Steve realised with a wave of nausea that this was probably only one of countless occasions that Bucky had been forced to remember his actions as the Winter Soldier. Steve could barely keep a grimace from his features as he tried to hold it together. He couldn’t let his emotions overwhelm him now. 

‘Enough.’ Steve said simply.

He saw no need to be cruel with the details, but they had to find out what had caused Bucky to attack and they needed him to know how serious their situation was, though Steve knew that just the one word would give Bucky a very good idea. 

‘Oh god, I knew this would happen. Everything HYDRA put inside me is still there - all he had to do was say the goddamn words.’ 

This was the most Steve had heard Bucky say since 1945, but he just raised more questions than he answered. What had HYDRA put inside him? What words was he talking about? How did Bucky know what was going to happen? How much did he remember from his time as the Winter Soldier?

This was no time for speculation. Steve had to focus on their immediate problems. They had to work out why Bucky had been captured before it was too late.

‘Who was he?’ Steve asked.

As far as Steve knew the doctor had had no connections to HYDRA or SHIELD, but that didn’t mean much when they were surrounded by spies and secret agencies. Credentials were easy to fake if you knew how, and a few friends in the right places meant such things were essentially meaningless.

‘I don’t know.’ Bucky was nervous; his eyes wandered across the room restlessly but kept returning to fix on Steve, as if to anchor himself into the present moment.

‘People are dead - the bombing, the setup - the doctor did all that just to get ten minutes with you. I need you to do better than ‘I don’t know.’’ 

The Captain America persona brusquely elbowed its way out of Steve, shielding him. At any other time he would have been grateful for it. The Captain’s image allowed him to strategise and to do his job without crumbling when faced with the harsh realities of battle. He was the embodiment of the perfect soldier: impersonal and efficient. Captain America would always get the job done, but Steve Rogers from Brooklyn just wanted to embrace his oldest friend.

‘He - He wanted to know about Siberia. Where I was kept. He wanted to know exactly where.’ Bucky replied, his eyes once again going unfocused and voice faltering as he struggled to remember. 

Steve felt sick at the mention of Bucky being ‘kept’ somewhere, like a tool or a pet to be brought out of HYDRA’s cage when it suited them. He hated that he had to do this. Bucky obviously could recall some of his time as the Soldier, but by making him access those memories Steve would be giving Bucky back all the horrors as well. His ‘Captain’ voice continued on regardless, without mercy:

‘Why would he need to know that?’

‘Because I’m not the only Winter Soldier.’ Bucky stared directly at him as he spoke, his lips drawn in a tight line. He was afraid.

‘What do you mean?’ Steve asked. To his left he could hear Sam’s sharp intake of breath.

‘I was - I was the first, but they made more with the serum.’ Bucky paused and sucked in air through his teeth. ‘Five more.’

‘Jesus Christ.’ Sam scuffed his feet on the floor. It was the first time he had looked away from Bucky since he had woken up. Apparently the greater threat of five unknown HYDRA assassins had replaced that presented by one wounded and restrained Winter Soldier.

‘Five more?’ Steve repeated, in shock. ‘You’re sure about this, Buck?’

‘Yeah, but Steve - there’s six of us. There’s _me.’_

‘You won’t hurt anyone Bucky, it’s okay.’ Steve said, unfolding his arms and lifting them briefly in a peaceful gesture, ignoring Sam’s sharp look.

‘I don’t want to, but if HYDRA finds me…’ Bucky chewed his lip and looked away before he said softly ‘…I won’t be able to stop myself.’ 

Bucky was trembling now, and Steve could only watch as Bucky’s shaky right hand reached across and gripped the metal shoulder, fingers digging in as if to immobilise it further. The silver hand clenched into a fist and the plates along the arm screeched as they scraped and fought against the steel of the press, shifting and groaning. Bucky stared at the arm as if it was something dangerous and alien. Steve could only watch as with a herculean effort Bucky fought to slow his breathing, emotions flickering across his face in a slideshow faster than Steve could follow. After what seemed like an age, the horrible sounds stopped and the arm suddenly went still. Bucky’s right hand stayed on the metal shoulder, body twisting towards it as he turned his left side away from them as best he could. 

Sam was pressed further back against the wall, making no effort to disguise his fear but wound up and ready to respond. Steve realised he had dug his own nails into his palms so hard there were faint spots of blood. He tried to wipe them discreetly on his jeans.

‘He has the words.’ Bucky whispered, almost too quietly for them to hear even in the empty space. ‘I’m not safe.’

‘What words?’ Steve spoke softly, and in the process he sent Captain America away. This was no place for a persona. Bucky didn’t need an interrogation; he needed help. He needed Steve.

The inhuman squeal of the metal arm still echoed in Steve’s ears, and he kept thinking of the bitter cold in the lifeless fingers as he trapped them in the press, and the feel of them pressing deep into the tissues of his neck, shattering his cheekbone, cutting off his air. He mentally shook himself and tried not to stare at the prosthesis, instead keeping his eyes fixed on Bucky’s face, even as he refused to turn back to look at them. Steve could still see tremors running through Bucky’s torso and right arm, his living hand absently fingering the bullet holes in his ruined shirt.

‘The Red Book.’ Bucky said, still not looking up from his curled posture on the box. Although Steve couldn’t see his face he could hear the capital letters as Bucky said the name.

‘What is it, Buck? What’s the book?’

‘It’s how they made the Winter Soldier. They said the words in it whenever they woke me up.’ Bucky looked up at Steve, his eyes wide with fear. Silently pleading with him to understand. 

‘Trigger words.’ Sam spat quietly, his voice tinged with disgust. 

Bucky snapped his head around to Sam at the sound of his voice, then softened slightly.

‘Yeah.’ Bucky muttered. ‘Something like that. He had the book… in the cell. That’s why - ’ 

His voice trailed off as he remembered, and a look of horror shattered his features. ‘Oh God.’ He covered his face with his free hand, shaking his head violently as his body bowed even further. ‘You need to kill me.’ The last words were choked out through his fingers, as a building whine let them know the metal arm was once again stirring as Bucky panicked.

‘No!’ Steve couldn’t help but step forward, arms reaching out. ‘Buck, it’s okay. We’re okay.’

Bucky continued like he hadn’t heard Steve, keeping as much of his body facing away from them as possible. 

‘I nearly killed you.’ 

Bucky sounded like he was trying not to break, but his voice was muffled behind his groaning left arm. He locked his right hand around the shoulder again, as if he expected it to betray him at any moment.

‘I can’t do this again, Steve. _Please.’_ Bucky said, his voice dropped down to a shaky whisper. 

‘You need help Bucky, but you’re not the Winter Soldier now. You remembered.’ Steve took another hesitant step, and Bucky finally noticed his advance, whipping his head up and throwing his right arm out towards Steve in a warning gesture. 

Bucky’s left arm plates ground together and tried to reposition once more, but it was still trapped. Steve stopped a few feet away from the machine, his own hands raised in surrender.

‘Buck, let us help. Come on, we need to find out what’s going on here.’ Steve said, locking eyes with Bucky as he kept very still.

Sam made a tense sound behind him but did not move to interfere. Steve was well aware that Sam was in the most danger out of any of them if this went badly, and he risked a glance in his direction. Sam’s face was filled with concern but he met Steve’s eyes and gave a curt nod of assent, just the tiniest movement of his head; he would have Steve’s back regardless. Steve felt a flood of relief and his voice grew steadier. They could do this. 

‘We’ll stop them using those words again, Buck. You’ll be safe.’ Steve was just out of reach of Bucky, who had started to breathe more slowly again, though the shudders passing through his body showed just how much it cost him.

‘No. It’s too dangerous.’ Bucky said, not lowering his right arm, continuing to keep Steve at a distance.

‘Let me worry about that. We’re already on the run because of the Accords, and we have to stop this guy before he kills anyone else.’

‘Were you even listening to what I said?- You’re always so damned stubborn, Steve.’ Bucky sighed in frustration and finally dropped his hand to push his tangled hair back out of his eyes. It was such a familiar phrase and gesture it made Steve want to cry.

‘I tried to stop it.’ Bucky said quietly after a pause. ‘I heard the words and I… I tried to stop him, but I wasn’t fast enough.’

‘It’s okay,’ Steve began, but Bucky cut him off.

‘No Steve, it’s really not okay.’ Bucky said sadly. He looked exhausted, Steve thought. Worn out like an old stuffed bear; discarded and replaced. There had been no one to care about him for a very long time.

‘I know Buck.’ Steve said softly. ‘I do, but you gotta work with me on this one. We can go after this doctor and find the book, but we need your help. You can give us an idea of what we’ll find once we get to Siberia.’

Bucky sighed again and shut his eyes so briefly Steve thought he might have imagined it before he nodded once, his head down. 

Steve carefully took the extra steps to the machine press and tapped the release button on the far side. There was only a low hum as it freed Bucky’s arm, but Steve watched in fascination as Bucky registered the sound and turned to watch the machine, slowly moving the prosthesis into his lap when there was space. The plates fluttered as they slid back into place along the length of the metal arm, synchronised like the movements of a snake across sandy ground as the fabric of Bucky’s shirt rippled with it. It was mesmerising to watch. Bucky rolled his shoulder slightly as he shifted into a better position on the box, but gave no other signs of discomfort. He looked up and caught Steve watching, and immediately both his limbs went still and lifeless, the right clasped around the left as if it was a prop.

‘It’s cool.’ Sam broke in quietly. ‘We’re gonna deal with this, yeah? You just take a moment.’

Bucky’s eyes had jumped instantly to Sam as he spoke but his body stayed like a statue, barely breathing. Steve found himself disturbed by the constant mixture of Bucky and Winter Soldier mannerisms in his friend. It was like he was flipping between one and the other every few seconds, his eyes gentle in one instant and then hard and intense as something spooked him or caught his attention. Beneath the roiling confusion lay something else, something new and soft, and nervous. Nothing like the tightly wound anxiety Steve remembered from the war, more like a bone-deep tiredness that didn’t sit right on a face so young. It was only one more thing to remind him of just what Bucky had been through, and how very long ago it was that they had known each other. 

Bucky was still watching Sam, his eyes refocusing into something more gentle as he recognised him.

‘I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to deal with all this. I - I remember I hurt you.’ Bucky said, hands still unmoving.

‘Yeah well, it’s okay man. You didn’t mean it.’ Sam said with a shrug.

‘I did, at the time.’ Bucky replied steadily. His gaze sharpened and didn’t falter and Steve realised that this was Bucky’s way of showing them the awful truth: The Winter Soldier always meant to hurt and kill them. They couldn’t afford to forget that.

‘You know what I mean.’ Sam said, unperturbed. 'HYDRA messed you up - trigger words and god knows what else. I get it, and I forgive you. No hard feelings.’ Sam smiled and nodded at Bucky who after a long pause carefully returned his nod and then looked away, his posture relaxing ever so slightly.

‘…Thanks.’ Bucky muttered, fingers twisting together in his lap. He noticed the movement and folded his arms instead, tucking the left one carefully out of sight. 

‘You don’t have to do that, Buck.’ Steve said before he could stop himself. 

He hated that Bucky was obviously uncomfortable with his arm, and that he didn’t like anyone seeing it. Steve was furious that Bucky still felt uncomfortable with a part of himself that he couldn’t change - after everything he had been through he was owed so much more than that.

In the same breath however he knew where Bucky was coming from. The unnatural limb was the Winter Soldier’s main weapon. It hadn’t been given to Bucky by choice. The Soldier always favoured it when fighting, and it was probably the cause of more deaths than Steve was comfortable thinking about. He knew that Bucky would be only too aware of this fact, and that they both now held the memories of their encounters where that arm came so close to killing him. Part of Steve was afraid of what it could do, and his flesh still remembered - but not when the arm belonged to Bucky. Bucky would never hurt him.

‘It’s wrong.’ Bucky said simply. ‘This is all wrong, but I - I can’t - ’ 

He trailed off again, and before Steve could respond a loud noise outside made them all jump. Bucky in an instant twisted his whole body around to stare at the closest wall as if he could see straight through it, and Steve and Sam froze, eyes roving over all the possible entry points in the factory. They strained their ears for any further sounds, but heard nothing else unusual. Bucky remained unnaturally still and alert, presumably also listening carefully. It surprised both Steve and Sam that of the three of them it was Bucky who moved and spoke again first, turning himself smoothly back around to face them on the box, his expression focused and neutral.

‘Car backfiring.’ He said to their questioning looks. ‘Couple of blocks away. No movement outside this building.’ Bucky looked back down to his lap after he finished his brief report, body folding inwards on itself in a grotesque parody of relaxation.

‘We need to get out of here soon. They’ll come looking for us eventually.’ Sam said, leaning around the closest wall to check the exits once more.

‘Agreed, but we need a plan.’ Steve said. ‘If this guy is going after the other Winter Soldiers, we need to know exactly who and what we’re dealing with.’

Steve’s mind was racing and calculating a hundred steps a minute, but he was running blind. Five more enhanced HYDRA operatives awaited them, each with with a set of unknown abilities and skills. He assumed from his experiences with Bucky that at a generous estimate even he would have trouble engaging more than one or two at a time. Not a comforting thought.

‘I was there.’ Bucky said carefully. ‘I saw them. We fought… I’m not sure when. Not long after they were made. It was a test.’ His breathing was slow and forced as if every memory threatened to crush against his ribcage.

Steve winced. They were right back in what was obviously painful territory for Bucky, mere minutes after they had managed to calm him down. It was awful to witness, but they had a job to do. Steve knew that Bucky would do exactly the same for him if their roles were reversed. 

In the war the Howling Commandos had always been given the dirty jobs: the grey areas. They went together into the dark places then, because they had to and because they knew it had been the right thing to do to end the conflict. 

Now only Steve and Bucky were left - the past and people they loved so dearly now dust on the wind, or cold words set in stone. Against all odds they had been thrown together into a new reality, but they had paid more than could ever be counted in their lost years.

While Steve had always been encouraged by others to highlight and appreciate the differences in the future, he had always been more concerned with the problems that had sadly stayed the same. Steve and Bucky and countless others had fought and died seventy years earlier in the name of saving lives and keeping people free. Now a global threat had reared its head again, and Steve was helpless to do anything but answer the call. Bucky despite his pain was trying his best to help, and Steve trusted that Bucky and Sam would have his back, as always. They would be a team - despite their scars - and Steve had to believe that this path would prevent any further casualties. 

Steve had decided a long time ago that he should never let himself think of morality as a matter of choice, and that he couldn’t allow his duty to be affected by personal circumstances. Why then did it hurt - oh, how much it hurt! - to deliberately pull these important memories from Bucky? It was as if he was twisting a knife into his friend’s psyche with every word. 

He had often wondered why he had become so ruthless in refusing his heart’s choices, even when the alternate path towards the greater good was grey and uncertain at best. Now as he tasted the bile in his throat at what he had to do he reflected bitterly that part of him must have always known what - or who - his choice would be. At his core he was always selfish. If it were up to him the world would have burned a long time ago.

‘Who were they?’  


±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±

  


We sit and watch umbrellas fly  
I'm trying to keep my newspaper dry  
I hear myself say  
‘My boat's leaving now’  
So we shake hands and cry  
Now I must wave goodbye  
Wave goodbye

 **\- A-ha, Manhattan Skyline  
**

 

 **[1942]**  


Some deep and visceral part of Bucky knew it would be too late, long before he heard the screams. The scene unfolded before them in wicked slow motion and they were rendered mute and helpless; to serve only as witnesses to the violence. A squeal of tires and bone-deep crunch of metal shattered the peace of their sleepy afternoon, and Bucky was on his feet and had his hand tight around Steve’s bony wrist before he even had time to think, as his friend leapt up and tried to bolt across the road towards the carnage.

‘Steve, wait!’ Bucky hissed into his ear. 

‘C’mon Bucky, we have to help!’ Steve said without looking back, pulling at Bucky ineffectually to try and move them further from the steps of their apartment building.

‘There’s nothing we can do!’ Bucky said, tugging Steve back to his side and nodding towards the large crowd quickly forming in the road around the smoking car. ‘We’d just get in the way like most of those people. We don’t know medicine or firefighting or anything that’s gonna be of use to ‘em.’ 

‘We could still try, you don’t know for sure - maybe I could use something my ma taught me…’ Steve said stubbornly, but his certainty wavered as he took in the full extent of the damage and he stilled at Bucky’s side, both of them unable to tear their eyes away. 

His voice trailed off as they watched their neighbours lifting a broken shape from the driver’s seat, and they both sat down again slowly on the steps, knees touching. Bucky’s grip loosened but he kept his hand on Steve’s arm and squeezed it lightly. Steve without looking turned over his palm and joined their fingers, squeezing back. 

_Stay with me,_ they said without words.

Women clustered together in a tense semicircle, holding handkerchiefs to their faces to hide shock rather than tears. They kept an unspoken cordon about twenty feet from the car, which was surrounded on all sides by those men who had rolled up their sleeves to show willing and were busy yelling at each other over the nearby chatter and rumbling of traffic. Some quick-thinking soul stood in the middle of the road as a living barrier to block any further entry into the street from the busy northern end, but horns still sounded in the distance as the disturbance rippled up the line to the junctions out of sight. 

The person taken from the car did not move. More men surged forward to reach deeper into the carcass of the vehicle, as the casualty was quickly hidden by a flock of bystanders and carried a short distance away. Bucky and Steve could hear high and frantic voices mingling with barked instructions from those in charge, but it was too chaotic for them to make out any words. They didn’t have to. After what seemed like far too short a time, the crowd rippled from the centre and moved back, members shaking their heads in unison. At the same time, the men still groping around inside the car emerged with ashen faces and grim expressions, to more wails of shock and grief. The tears flowed then, as the loss hit the assembled group like a cudgel and almost sent it to its knees. 

Bucky gripped Steve’s hand tighter, their bodies trembling ever so slightly. He fought the urge to shiver - it was a warm day, and the sun reflected off the metal of the wreck and the spilled fuel with an almost painful glare. He didn’t want to see this, but it felt like it would cause too much of a disturbance for them to stand and sneak away now. He kept a tight hold of Steve’s hand and watched as more vehicles eventually arrived and took the bodies away, wrapped in white to give the illusion of dignity. Someone else showed up before long in a truck and towed the crumpled remains of the crashed car, and they were then afforded a clear view of the pole it had folded itself around, the violent impact pointing alarmingly towards the nearby brownstones. 

With the evidence cleared the crowd vanished as if it had never been, people drifting away into the afternoon haze in twos and threes. Without something left to gawk at, their talk was just gossip now and something shameful to be done behind closed doors.

Steve and Bucky sat staring for a moment as the commotion faded, and sounds of the city draped themselves once again over the neighbourhood; the comforting drone of engines, the rise and fall of distant voices and the lone screech of a nearby gull. Steve was the one who eventually broke their close silence, surging to his feet and releasing his hand from Bucky as he stretched, letting out a loud exaggerated sigh of relief.

‘Let’s see if we can’t get things cleaned up.’ He said, walking forward a few steps into the road and turning back to face Bucky. ‘It’s dangerous to leave the fuel where it could catch on fire or kids could step in it.’

Bucky nodded and pushed himself up, feeling the full extent of the stiffness in his limbs. He couldn’t say how long they had been sitting there, but the sun was now way over towards the other end of the rooftops and he knew it must have been lot longer than his first impressions would have him believe. It seemed like just a few minutes since he saw the car first racing towards them, spiking his adrenaline and sending shards of ice into his heart. Though they had been sitting quietly for some time, both outwardly calm, Bucky could still touch the remnants of his fear inside him as they walked towards the remains of the accident. It jumped and tugged at him like a trapped animal, as if it was straining for the opportunity to be released again.

The community cleanup had been perfunctory at best. Besides the spilled fuel there were still chunks of metal and various car parts scattered in a wide radius around the pole, along with rags and other miscellaneous items that Bucky assumed to be from the rescue effort. The vehicles trundling down the street towards them veered wide to avoid the mess, but some slowed to a crawl as the occupants stared at the new additions to their Brooklyn landscape. A large bloodstain towards the middle of the road made more than a few change their minds about sightseeing and decide to hurry on their way.

Steve crouched in the road and picked up a rag, swirling it around in an iridescent puddle to try and get the ill-suited fabric to absorb the liquid. Bucky was about to get down beside him to help when a bundle on the farthest side of the pole caught his eye as it twitched, and he thought he heard a muffled sound. A whimper.

Not sure if it was just in his heightened imagination, he jerked to a stop and held up a hand to silence any of Steve’s questions as he listened carefully. He couldn’t hear anything more, but the distant pile of rags moved again, and he rushed forward to it, dropping to his knees on the sidewalk.

Now he was up close, he could see it wasn’t actually a bundle of rags. It was a puppy - a golden-haired mixed breed. Its shaggy fur was matted with blood and its muzzle was darkened and damp with foam. At least two of its legs bent at an unnatural angle. As Bucky watched, its sides heaved in an excruciating breath but it didn’t open its eyes or make any further sound. Someone had dropped a dirty rag onto its back end, whether to try to hide the dogs injuries from onlookers or just out of carelessness Bucky couldn’t tell. He felt his teeth clench and his hands start to shake as he called to Steve.

‘Over here!’

Steve looked up, startled at Bucky’s shout. He saw the expression on the other’s face and hurried over without a word. When he saw the reason for Bucky’s distress, his face went white and he sank down onto the ground, a hand raised to his mouth in horror as he realised the puppy was still alive.

‘They just left him here, Steve.’ Bucky said, his voice rough and spat through with anger. ‘Like a piece of garbage! Look at him - he’s in so much pain.’

‘I know, Buck.’ Steve said softly. 

Bucky could tell that there wasn’t much hope for the poor creature. He felt sick. Even if they could somehow fix the damaged legs, a trickle of blood from an ear and the erratic breathing were very bad signs. He had heard of people with these types of injuries ending up in a hospital, but he didn’t know of any happy endings to their stories.

Steve laid a comforting hand on Bucky’s arm, which Bucky quickly shook off, though not roughly. He was busy tucking the discarded piece of cloth around the puppy’s middle, trying to be as careful as possible. While the puppy was still taking deep shuddering breaths, it didn’t open its eyes or move when Bucky placed gentle calloused hands on its side. 

‘Come on, little fella.’ He crooned, stroking the messy fur on its head. ‘Open your eyes for me.’

‘Buck, I think -‘ Steve began, but Bucky cut him off as he began straightening out the puppy’s legs on the ground. 

‘We gotta take him inside, Steve.’

Bucky’s first impressions had been right; both rear legs were badly broken, the raw ends of bones showing through tattered skin. Its right front paw was also twisted alarmingly, and there were numerous abrasions showing through the thinner areas of fur all over its body. 

‘We can get him some help.’ Bucky continued, still gently manipulating the puppy’s limbs and smoothing down fur. ‘Maybe your ma -‘ 

‘Buck, he’s got a head injury. It’s no use.’ Steve said carefully. ‘He’ll probably never wake up. Even if we could - ’

‘There’s no one else to help him Steve.’ Bucky ground out. ‘They left him here alone and hurt and didn’t even _try.’_

Bucky refused to look back up at Steve as he took off his jacket. The light material showed up all the blood and dirt as he wrapped it around the puppy, and ever so carefully lifted it to be cradled in his arms, holding the damaged legs up and away from him so they wouldn’t be squashed further. 

The puppy whimpered quietly once as it was moved, but made no further sound. A sliver of brown eyes peeked from under bruised lids for a few seconds before they slid shut again, and then all that was left was its laboured breathing and Bucky’s murmured words as he stroked the backs of his fingers down its cheeks, wiping away flecks of foam. It looked even smaller than before, and fragile, its face almost completely hidden by Bucky’s large hand as he worked. It couldn’t have been more than a few months old.

Steve sat back on his haunches on the sidewalk, watching silently as Bucky held the puppy to his chest like a life preserver for a drowning man; his quiet words a breathless string of prayers and encouragement. After several minutes Bucky finally got to his feet, and looked towards their apartment building.

‘We need to get him inside.’ Bucky said. ‘The first aid kit’s still got some bandages left after last time.’ He glanced once more at the puppy and tucked the wrappings in a little closer. Steve stepped towards him and with a look at Bucky for permission lifted a hand and gently stroked the puppy’s downy-soft head. It was now very still.

‘Bucky -‘

‘Let’s go, Steve.’ Bucky said, face carefully blank. He started to pull away, but Steve quickly stepped in his path, hands held out to his chest.

‘Bucky!’ Steve said. ‘He’s gone.’

‘He’ll be okay.’ Bucky snapped, wrapping his arms more carefully around the puppy, even as he didn’t dare look down again. 

‘He’s not breathing.’ Steve said softly. ‘It was too much - the injuries were too much.’

‘What? No…’ Bucky trailed off as he finally looked at the broken creature in his arms. His filthy jacket couldn’t hide the absolute stillness of the little chest, the unnatural angles of the tiny limbs; the bones forcing their way out through the skin now vicious sculptures stained with blood. 

Bucky ducked his head and pressed his face into the puppy’s golden fur. His shoulders were shaking, and he sighed heavily to compose himself before he spoke, voice strained:

‘At least he wasn’t alone. We found him in time for that, at least. No one else could bring themselves to give a damn.’ The last words were almost a growl of anger.

‘Let’s go, Buck. We can give him a decent burial.’ Steve said, pulling Bucky gently by an elbow until he registered the touch and started walking.

*

They made their way slowly through the streets, Bucky refusing to allow his eyes to linger on the body he carried. His simmering anger quickly faded, only to be replaced with sorrow. 

He couldn’t help but be reminded of long hospital days; the smell of sickness and fear, the bloody bandages he had wrapped around fragile fingers too many times for him to count. The comparison gnawed at him as he looked over at Steve, who now seemed even smaller and more vulnerable. Would Steve have shattered like that? Bucky had always dreaded the day he saw his friend’s eyes close for good, ever since he was old enough to understand what Steve’s laundry list of illnesses meant. All it would take was another bout of pneumonia, one asthma attack too many, or a split second mistake by the driver of a truck.

He bit his tongue on his fears and kept walking, praying for the silence to continue so he wouldn’t be tempted to betray his innermost thoughts. He couldn’t let Steve suspect - he had always hated to be mothered and pitied, and would likely brush off Bucky’s concerns to snap at him in return. Bucky had learned a long time ago to keep quiet and let Steve make his own decisions about his health - even if said decisions were often very stupid in his opinion - but this approach currently meant he couldn’t say anything at all, because they had been fighting for days already and Bucky was so tired.

Steve remained quiet beside him as they walked, though the set of his shoulders and pursed lips meant he was thinking like mad. Bucky could almost hear gears in his head grinding as they approached the park. Steve had been uncharacteristically withdrawn in the last few days; usually their arguing got him all riled up but it seemed like all the fight had abruptly drained out of his body, leaving a quiet bitterness that threw Bucky for a loop. He didn’t know how to deal with a Steve who wouldn’t talk to him, get in his face and defend his right to be right. 

Earlier they had returned to the apartment after running errands and sat on the steps for Bucky to smoke, but neither could think of anything to say to the other. Bucky thought that perhaps it was all too much: that the weight of what was to come for both of them had squeezed their hearts and words dry.

The park was busy, but no one spared them a glance as they cut across the games area and made their way to their favourite corner: a shabby collection of flowerbeds, large rocks and a huge maple tree that provided shade and protection from sudden rain. Now at the end of summer the few straggly plants dotted about were looking brittle and dry, and the bare earth under the shadows of the tree was shot through with cracks. 

Bucky knelt under the tree, gently placing the puppy on the ground beside him. He tested the earth but it was fine and hard, packed solid by the weight of all those who ran and sat beneath the tree’s wide canopy. Steve scratched at the ground beside him with his shoe, face drawn tight as if to keep the emotions escaping from his face. His voice shook a little as he said softly:

‘We won’t be able to dig here, Buck. We’ll have to use a flowerbed.’

Bucky just shook his head, hands resting on the warm ground. 

‘We can’t put him in with the plants.’ he said. ‘The gardeners will disturb them in the spring. We have to put him where they won’t dig.’

He pushed his fingers as hard as he could into the soil, the tips barely breaking through the thin shell-like layer on the surface before scraping over the packed earth beneath. He continued to scrape with his hands, the motions painful and raw on his skin until he went to reach down again and found his wrists held firmly by cool fingers, Steve crouching to press himself close against Bucky’s side.

‘Stop it!’ Steve said quietly. ‘You’ll hurt yourself. Let me get something to dig with, okay?’

‘We’re going to keep an eye on him.’ Bucky replied without looking up, resting his sore hands on his knees. ‘He’ll be able to rest here.’

‘Of course.’ Steve said, releasing Bucky’s wrists.The choked and unsteady quality was back in his voice. ‘He’ll be at peace.’

Before Bucky had time to ask if Steve was okay, Steve had pushed himself shakily to his feet and left in the direction of the local stores. Bucky placed a hand on the puppy’s body as if to comfort it while he waited for him to return. The sun was still warm and lit the underside of the tree in golden dappled shadows. They had lain here often, usually with Steve sketching and Bucky reading or napping. Dreaming of brighter times. He had so many fond memories of this place, and part of Bucky hoped that somehow laying the puppy to rest somewhere so saturated with happiness meant something, though he couldn’t have explained exactly why he felt it was important. 

Before long Steve returned with a battered shovel and an expression that said ‘don’t ask’ so Bucky didn’t - just held out his hand for it and began to dig. After about fifteen minutes when he started to tire, Steve tapped him on the shoulder and Bucky let him take over while he stretched his muscles and rested, but it was only a few moments of exertion before Steve was breathless and trembling, and Bucky wordlessly tapped himself back in. It was telling that Steve didn’t even try to argue, just passed the shovel back to Bucky and sprawled on the ground, wheezing and pale.

It took a long time to dig the grave deep enough in the dry soil, and Steve was only able to spell Bucky a couple more times before his body gave its final firm ‘no’ and he ended up with his head in the familiar posture between his knees, waving Bucky’s concerns away as he gestured for him to finish up the hole. Bucky’s fingers were raw and bleeding, and the sandy earth had gotten everywhere; stuck in the grooves of his palms, the creases of his clothes, the corners of his eyes. Something twisted and painful inside his chest made him keep going, as if the motions of digging were the only thing holding himself together. He tuned out the sounds of the park and the pain in his hands and focused on the actions of pushing and carving into the dirt. Eventually, it was done, and he stepped back, wiping the sweat and grime from his face with his forearm.

Steve stood slowly from his hunched position against the trunk of the tree and walked over to the the puppy on the ground. He crouched to pick it up and tenderly removed Bucky’s jacket from around its body, stroking it in farewell and holding his arms out to Bucky. Bucky took the puppy and gently smoothed the stained fur back from its eyes one last time, pressing a quick kiss to the top of its head before whispering in its ear:

‘Sleep now, little guy.’

He placed the puppy carefully in the hole and picked up the shovel again before looking to Steve.

‘Can you say the words?’ Bucky asked.

Bucky never went to church as a rule, but he had attended Sarah Rogers’ funeral and those of several friends. As Steve was Catholic and by far the more observant of the two of them Bucky knew that he would have more of an idea of what was expected at a grave.

‘Sure Buck.’ Steve said. ‘I’ll do my best.’ 

He wouldn’t look at him directly, but Bucky could see that Steve’s eyes were bloodshot and his face strained as he walked over to the open grave, picking up a handful of loose dirt. Steve spoke carefully, his deep voice falling soft in the shade of the enormous tree.

‘Almighty God, in you we place our trust and hope, in you the dead whose bodies were temples of the Spirit find everlasting peace. Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit; as it was in the beginning, is now, and will be for ever. Amen.’

Steve sprinkled the dirt into the grave, and then Bucky lifted the shovel one last time, filling in the hole and stamping on the dirt carefully when it was level. Steve didn’t speak again, just watched by the side of the grave with an unreadable expression. His fists were clenched and his eyes remained rimmed with red, but he stood motionless until at last the job was done and Bucky straightened up, his face shining with sweat and clothes stained almost red with dirt and sweat. 

Now that the burial was complete, Bucky’s mind itched with the impulse to get away, to be alone. He couldn’t explain why his chest was still aching so much, or why he felt like he might at any moment start to cry and never stop over a puppy they didn’t even know. He kept replaying the sight of the tiny body in the grave, his inner voice taunting him with how easily it could be one of his siblings, his grandma in her last days - or Steve, who according to doctors was clinging to the last of his borrowed time. 

He meant to make an excuse about an early shift, and could barely look at Steve as he wiped his face again and collected his jacket; but before he could bring himself to speak, Steve got there first.

‘Don’t you dare, Buck. Don’t do this to me.’ He said, words forced out through gritted teeth.

‘What?’ 

Bucky couldn’t immediately think of what Steve meant, caught off guard by the quiet venom in his friend’s voice.

‘You’re leaving in a week,’ Steve said. ‘And I’m stuck here until they let me enlist. I’m not waiting at home for a telegram, Bucky. I can’t do it!.’

‘Steve…’ Bucky sighed, pressing a hand over his face. ‘You know I didn’t mean to - ‘

‘- But you did, Bucky. You enlisted - you passed!’ Steve said, voice now harsh with anger, just a breath from shouting. ‘You signed up to fight and maybe even die in a foreign land, and I - I’m not staying behind only to have you come back home in a box for me to put in the ground.’ 

Steve turned so that the full force of his glare remained on Bucky, who wilted even further as he tried to look away. 

‘We should be going together.’ Steve said. ‘You know I can do my part as well as you.’

‘Yeah Steve, I know.’ Bucky replied sadly.

He understood now. This was what they had been fighting about for the last two weeks, ever since Bucky got his official shipping out date. Steve had been furious when Bucky hadn’t supported him to try and enlist elsewhere, but Bucky was terrified that Steve with his usual bullheaded determination would somehow get himself to the front lines, and then how long would he last? He could barely run, never mind carry gear and fight in the mud and the cold. He would die of an infection before he ever got near a bullet. Steve’s heart was huge and his compassion endless, but it was too much for his body to contain. He could help the war effort in countless ways, but the path he had set himself on was either going to end in failure or an ugly death. Bucky refused to be part of it. 

‘Then why won’t you help me do this?’ Steve said, stepping forward towards Bucky and getting in his space.

‘Because you’ll get your stupid self killed!’ Bucky snapped back. ‘I was going to be drafted anyway - it was only a matter of time, you know that. I don’t have a choice. I don’t want to die, but if this is how I have to fight this war then fair enough. At least I have a chance to come home soon when we win - but you - Steve you must know you’re too sick to sign up. It wouldn’t be great or noble or anything worthwhile, it would just end up with you dying for some dumb reason like your fucking asthma or your heart or - Jesus, do you really think they have proper medicine over there Steve? Don’t you get it? I just want at least one of us to make it through this!’

Bucky paused in his furious rant and took a deep steadying breath. Steve’s face was shocked white and he held himself stiffly away from Bucky, unused to being on the receiving end of a tirade. Bucky had always kept relatively calm through their arguments for the most part, and even now he had moderated his rough voice so as not to carry too far to those nearby. This raw emotion though, this was new. Bucky didn’t usually let his feelings show so clearly, but he knew he was almost shaking and his eyes stung with the effort of keeping some of his composure intact. All the stress and worry of the previous weeks had smashed through his weakened defences, and now it threatened to consume him, to crush everything in its path.

‘I’m not saying anything that isn’t true, punk. You know they’re right to refuse you.’ Bucky continued softly, covering his eyes again with his hand to try and hide his own helplessness.

He couldn’t see Steve’s reaction, but he braced himself for more fire and wrath. It didn’t come. Instead there was a silence, hanging heavy in the shaded space. With his eyes closed Bucky could focus on Steve’s wheezy breaths and the rustling of the thick leaves above.

‘Bucky, I’m sorry.’ Steve said eventually, stepping forward to rest a hand on Bucky’s forearm. ‘I’ve been a jerk to you. I know you didn’t want any part of this.’

‘I never wanted to have to leave you.’ Bucky said, surprised into looking up at the simple and honest apology. ’You know I would change things in a heartbeat if I could, but if we hadn’t gone there last month they would send me anyway sooner or later. They don’t need so many dockworkers in the city these days.’

‘Yeah, I know Buck.’ Steve said. ‘I’m just mad, is all.’

‘I’m sorry I got riled up too - ’ Bucky said. ‘- but you gotta understand. I just keep thinking of you getting sick over there, of dying - you know we’ve been close to that before - and know I couldn’t deal with it. Seeing those folks today, this little guy here - they were here living with us in Brooklyn one minute then they’re just gone, and I didn’t even know them but it was so fast, and this war is gonna be on another level - you know we hear things that they don’t print in the papers. It’s bad, Steve. Really bad. I don’t want you to be part of that, and I know that makes me a selfish asshole but it’s the truth, okay? You gotta stay safe and give me a reason to come back here.’

‘Bucky…’ Steve breathed, eyes huge in his slim face. He swallowed hard and turned away, shoulders trembling though with exertion or emotion Bucky wasn’t sure.

‘I need to look out for you Bucky, like you’ve always done for me.’ Steve said quietly, voice uneven. He still faced away towards the dark corner of the park, as if to hide something shameful. ‘There are so many graves here already. If I don’t go with you, you could die and then where would that leave me? What would I do without you?’ 

‘I’ll always come back, Steve. Until the end of the line; always. That’s just how it is.’ Bucky said, trying not to let his uncertainty show in his voice. ‘Besides, you’d manage just fine without me.’

‘I’m not talking about my job or my asthma, Buck. I’m saying I can’t imagine life in Brooklyn - my life, without you.’ Steve’s voice broke on the last word and Bucky realised he was crying.

‘Hey! Hey now, Steve. You won’t lose me, alright? End of the line means we’re always gonna see each other again.’ Bucky said, feeling tears start to fall down his own face without permission, leaving hot and silent trails through the dirt.

The pain and worry that had been slowly filling Bucky’s chest suddenly rose up into his throat and he felt as if his whole body was bursting with it, compelling him to act or it would shake him apart. Not caring whether anyone could see them, he moved and quickly wrapped his arms around Steve, folding himself against his back and supporting him through the sobs shaking his small frame. Bucky gently pressed his face against Steve’s, getting the familiar warm smell of his hair, and tried not to think about broken bones and bloody fingers; of men lying dead in ditches and in hospital beds, of bullet holes and hacking coughs that rip through flesh, and fields of graves for all those taken far too young. Their tears wouldn’t stop, and Steve reached upwards and held onto Bucky’s arms, pulling him tighter with an almost painful grip. Bucky squeezed back once in acknowledgement and then took a deep shuddering breath and simply held on.

They didn’t speak again, but when the light faded from beneath the tree they were still together, and if on their way home they walked so close their shoulders touched, and if their hands brushed feather-light against each other so quickly you might have imagined it, there was no one near enough to see in the darkness.

*

Bucky shipped out one week later, and Steve found his own way into the Army on the night of their last goodbye. Months passed in a blur of fighting and dying, dancing and despair. Steve used superhuman strength he didn’t yet fully understand to pull Bucky from the depths of an alien weapons factory in Austria, and the whole world shifted.

*

That particular grave was never disturbed, and if in a park in Brooklyn two men were seen often sitting close together under a large maple tree, no one ever thought to comment. It was a good place; shaded and safe from sudden rain.  


±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±

  


-These are men whose minds the Dead have ravished.  
Memory fingers in their hair of murders,  
Multitudinous murders they once witnessed.  
Wading sloughs of flesh these helpless wander,  
Treading blood from lungs that had loved laughter.

**\- Wilfred Owen, Mental Cases**

 

 **[2016]**  


‘Their most elite death squad. More kills than anyone in HYDRA history, and that was before the serum.’

It wasn’t the worst case scenario Steve had thought of, but it came pretty damn close. 

Bucky was focused on Steve again as he spoke, but although he was obviously still on edge he had softened the lines of his body, trying to relax and put them at ease. Steve and Sam held themselves back at the edges of the room, and while Steve had allowed himself to uncoil a fraction as they talked, Sam still scowled slightly at Bucky, seeing him as a potential danger. 

‘They all turn out like you?’ Sam said, unable to keep the bite from his words.

Bucky just looked Sam straight in the eyes.

’Worse.’ 

He didn’t smile, and Sam didn’t say anything else. How could he? Steve decided to step in again.

‘The doctor, could he control them?’ Steve asked.

‘Enough.’ Bucky said, voice falling flat in the empty air as he looked away.

Steve wanted to know if they were dealing with just one man’s motives or a group who could potentially have many different games to play. He prayed for the former, though he felt as though he was missing something vital even then. What would an unknown man with fake doctor’s credentials want with five of the most deadly living weapons in history? What could have possibly driven him to go to all that trouble? His whole plan was risky and could have ended in the doctor’s arrest or death at several points before now. It made no sense, and part of Steve was terrified of the unknown of it all as he replayed their confrontation over and over in his mind.

‘Said he wanted to see an empire fall.’ Steve mused, trying to put the pieces together.

Bucky was obviously thinking along the same lines as Steve, and he leaned forward, worrying his mismatched hands in his lap. 

‘With these guys he could do it. They speak 30 languages, can hide in plain sight - infiltrate, assassinate, destabilise. They can take a whole country down in one night and you’d never see them coming.’ Bucky said, his voice dropping to almost a whisper after he’d forced it to cope with so many words at once. 

It made Steve’s heart hurt to think of confident, chatty Bucky’s voice slowly fading away in HYDRA’s prison. Did they allow him to talk at all, or did they just like to hear him scream? He’d seen the file. He could read between the lines.

The dark pull of of Steve’s thoughts was halted by Sam moving over to stand at his side, still facing Bucky. 

’This would have been a lot easier a week ago.’ Sam murmured, not taking his eyes off Bucky as he spoke directly into Steve’s ear. 

Steve didn’t bother reminding him that both Bucky and himself had unnaturally good hearing and could probably eavesdrop for their country. Bucky could hear every word they said. Luckily it wasn’t anything classified or personal, but Bucky made no attempt to pretend he couldn’t hear them, still staring with that strange passive-alertness that made Steve feel he was looking at a stranger waiting just behind Bucky’s eyes.

‘If we call Tony - ’ Steve said, starting a walkthrough of the scenario in their familiar way that always began with the most obvious options. 

This was why Steve, Sam and Natasha were such a good team. They played everything out and allowed for all possibilities before acting. Part of the perks of having a paranoid ex-assassin and a thoughtful medic to compliment Steve’s headlong approach, he assumed. Not that he couldn’t be tactical - far from it - but Steve was the first to admit he was combat-focused and he still fell back on old habits from the war when the Commandos often didn’t have the time or resources to be stealthy. 

‘He won’t believe us.’ Sam said, shaking his head. 

‘Even if he did - ’

‘Who knows if the Accords will let him help.’

‘We’re on our own.’ Steve confirmed, his heart sinking just a little. 

They were almost certainly outmatched in a direct fight with five Winter Soldiers, plus the doctor was still an unknown entity; but Sam was right. The Accords were a legal nightmare and a snarl of verbose language that were designed to hold them tighter than a noose around their necks. Any of those who signed, including Tony, would be risking their careers and even freedom to help them; and after their earlier conversation Steve knew Tony wouldn’t be swayed so easily. Steve had hurt him a lot more than he expected to with his refusal. 

‘Maybe not.’ Sam said. ‘I know a guy.’ He sounded almost embarrassed, and Steve was certain there was a lot more to that particular story but he just smiled. They were working through  
it; getting there.

“Enhanced?’ He asked.

‘Has a special suit.’ Sam said. ‘Can shrink himself down to almost nothing but it makes him really strong. Fast, too. He’s also a big fan of yours Cap, and not too fond of law enforcement. I think he’ll sign up, no problem.’

‘Sounds good.’ Steve said, pleased. ‘We can start to even the odds. No matter what, we have to get to Siberia and stop this guy before he gets his hands on the Winter Soldiers.’ He looked at Sam and Bucky, who nodded. ‘I think we can count on a couple of others too, who I have a feeling might not be too pleased with the latest turn of events.’

‘You mean Wanda?’ Sam said. ’She’s locked up at the compound, isn’t she?’

‘Who’s Wanda?’ Bucky asked.

‘A friend. She’s strong.’ Steve said to Bucky. ’You’ll like her.’ 

Bucky gave a curt nod, eyes suddenly all business like he had been given an order. Steve tried very hard not to dwell on the implications of that behaviour. It reminded him too much of the Winter Soldier again, but he told himself sternly that he had to stop analysing Bucky’s every move. Bucky couldn’t help be what he was, and Steve’s constant guilt and self-loathing was just making things worse.

‘How do we get past Vision?’ Sam asked. ‘You can’t just tiptoe around that guy.’

‘Well that’s where the second part of the plan comes in - get someone who doesn’t play fair.’ Steve smiled, but it was a fierce thing more of determination than humour. ‘Besides, I think he’ll be very upset to find out what’s happened to Wanda while he’s been away.’

‘You’re serious? You can call Clint?’ Sam said, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘We could’ve done with his help ages ago!’

‘Clint’s retired - it wasn’t the right time until now.’ Steve said. ‘Besides, he could still say no - but I’m hoping not. He’s a good man, I think he’ll agree to help us when we tell him what’s at stake.’

‘Yeah, okay.’ Sam said, looking over again at Bucky who hadn’t moved, his face thoughtful.

‘Clint Barton, alias Hawkeye; the sharpshooter.’ Bucky said. ‘He’s good.’ He looked satisfied, standing from the box in one liquid movement and stretching his arms, the metal one whirring and clicking as it shifted. Sam couldn’t completely hide his flinch.

‘I’ll um, make that call Cap. You guys catch up before we leave - phone’s in the car.’ He said, walking quickly away from them towards the exit before either of them had time to reply. 

Steve was left alone with Bucky and an awkward silence as Bucky pulled his sleeves back down and shuffled his feet, trying to look like he wasn’t still on high alert and failing miserably. He stilled, and again Steve was reminded of just how large and dangerous Bucky was like this - he was the same height as Steve and had almost the same muscle mass, his bulk supporting what must be the immense weight of the metal arm. Even without any weapons, he stood and moved like a predator. As he turned around to look at the empty room and then back to Steve his expressions shifted from blank and cold to almost shy, and even standing slightly hunched the thin material of his shirt couldn’t hide the bunching muscles under his skin as he tensed. Was he preparing for a fight? Steve still couldn’t tell and the thought crushed him, but he wanted so badly to put Bucky at ease. 

In truth all Steve wanted was to be close to Bucky again, but when had he ever given Bucky reason to trust him? In the last 48 hours Steve had gotten him attacked, hunted and arrested. They could have locked Bucky up again and thrown away the key, and it would have been entirely Steve’s fault. If he hadn’t asked him to surrender, Bucky probably could have escaped and the fake doctor would have never got his hands on the Winter Soldier. He had given Bucky plenty of reasons to not have anything to do with him again. God, he had fucked things up so badly! Here he had been given all he ever wanted since he came out of the ice, and yet he couldn’t imagine them any further apart. He would have rather jumped on a real live grenade than put Bucky in more danger like this, but it seemed that whenever he tried to help he only made things worse. 

He had wanted to jog Bucky’s memory on the helicarriers, and it had worked. Maybe too well. Bucky had saved his life but was left confused and alone when Steve was hurt, and for whatever reason he had thought it better to run than to face Steve again. Had Steve simply given Bucky seventy years of horror and a life of further isolation all for his own selfishness? It was a sickening thought. 

‘We should leave.’ Bucky said, not meeting Steve’s eyes.

‘Nearest secure airport outside of Berlin is Leipzig,’ Steve said. ‘but they’ll be watching the roads and they’ll expect us to try to get out of the country. All the airports will be locked down.’

‘Doesn’t matter.’ Bucky said, waving a hand. ‘I can get us a plane at Leipzig but we’re gonna have to lose the sirens first.’

‘We have to wait for Sam’s friend and Clint to join us if we’re to have any chance at this, so we need somewhere to lay low for at least - say, ten hours? By then they should assume we have gone a different route.’ Steve said.

‘That… won’t be a problem.’ Bucky said, biting his lip as he thought.

‘You know somewhere we can go?’ Steve asked. ‘What’s the matter, Buck?’

‘I’ll deal with it.’ Bucky said shortly, all business again. ‘Just point us toward the airport and drive until I tell you we can stop.’ 

Bucky turned away, effectively shutting down that line of questioning. Steve tried not to get frustrated, but there was so much he didn’t understand about Bucky, about what was done to him and how he was now. It worried him that Bucky was keeping secrets, even though the sensible part of him sternly informed him he had no right to pry. Bucky was helping them at great cost to himself, and Steve had to trust. 

‘Steve?’ Bucky’s voice broke through his thoughts, and he realised he had been somewhere else entirely for a moment, trapped by his own insecurities.

‘What? Oh, sorry Buck. What is it?’

‘It’s just - I’m sorry.’ Bucky said, face twisted in a grimace of pain. ‘I know this probably wasn’t the reunion you were hoping for.’

‘What are you talking about, Buck? I’ve been searching for you since DC, you must know that. I just wanted to see you again.’ Steve said, confused.

‘I know, but - I’m not the guy you knew, Steve. I’m not right - I hurt you, and Sam, and all those people today. Just a few words in Russian, and I’ll try to kill you. You gotta understand.’ 

Bucky didn’t raise his voice but he looked like he was about to cry.

‘I didn’t want to hurt you.’ He whispered. ‘I knew, when I remembered you - all I ever wanted was to see you - but it’s too dangerous.’

‘Come on, Buck. We’ve been through all this before, you and me.’ Steve said, trying to put the warmth he felt into his voice. ‘That time in Austria, I pulled you out of the lab and straight into more trouble with Schmidt and Zola. I gotta apologise for that, by the way. You should have gone home to your family but you stayed to cover me; thank you.’

‘That wasn’t…’ Bucky spluttered a bit. ‘Steve, that’s not what this is about!’

‘Isn’t it?’ Steve said, smiling gently. ‘You’ve changed. We’ve both changed, and now there’s a target painted on our backs as well as my shield. We gotta have that awkward talk again.’

‘Oh god, the camp near Kaprun!’ Bucky said, covering his face as his cheeks turned pink with embarrassment. ‘Now I know how you must have felt. I’m so sorry I was such an ass about everything!’

‘You weren’t, Buck. It was just a weird situation, that’s all. It’s a little weird now too, if I’m being honest.’ Steve admitted. ‘But then, it’s been seventy years. A lot’s happened, to both of us.’

‘Yeah.’ Bucky said quietly. ‘I… Can - Can we start this over?’

‘Sure.’ Steve replied, trying and failing to stop the huge smile from escaping his face.

Bucky gave a small smile in return as he slowly held out his right hand, telegraphing a step forward.

‘Bucky Barnes. It’s been a long time.’ He said, his voice shaking slightly.

Steve couldn’t help but move to clasp Bucky’s hand and pull him in gently for a hug, careful to stick to the proffered right side. Bucky didn’t resist, and even relaxed his muscles as he leant close into Steve like they had when they were kids, this time their shoulders bumped together as they were the same height, but Bucky tucked his head down towards Steve’s neck as he had always done a lifetime ago, and let out a gentle breath against Steve’s ear. Steve squeezed Bucky’s torso gently in return, pressing closer, and allowed himself to remember, and to hope.

‘Good to see you again, Bucky. I’m Steve Rogers.’ He whispered.


End file.
